Velocity
by Neon Majestic
Summary: Central City's villains have always been notorious, but never particularly malicious even when committing crimes. But a new enemy's about to change that status quo... Post Destroyer. CHAPTER 33 ADDED!
1. Chapter 1

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 01

_**Central City, 11:45 a.m.**_

The sun shone high in the sky over the tops of Central City's skyscrapers on this, a beautiful Saturday morning. Vehicles were busily rushing along the thoroughfares. Pedestrians were walking on the sidewalk, either as solitary figures or in groups of twos or threes; those in groups were laughing and chattering away.

"Girl, did you get the chance to see that hot new guy moving into our building yesterday?"

"Mommy, can we get a hot dog?"

"Geez, I can't believe you bet all your allowance on those lousy cars at the derby!"

A police cruiser drove up to one of the many stores open on the sidewalk. This one was an open-window pastry shop, bearing a sign on its front that boasted of the shop's delicious cakes, bagels, and sandwiches. "Hey, Larry!" the cop at the wheel called out in a gruff but nonetheless friendly tone. "Got a couple of hungry patrons out here, that you do!"

The shop's proprietor, a bulky man with a jolly face, grinned at the officer. "Sure thing, guys. I've got quite a deal on beef subs today—wanna come in and see?"

"Don't mind if I do, that's for sure!" the officer's smooth-voiced partner replied eagerly. "C'mon, Chyre, let's check 'em out, eh?"

"Well, we've got another ten minutes before we have to get back on our shift. Why not?" Chyre agreed.

So saying, the two cops exited the cruiser and headed for the door of the shop. "Can't wait to see what these subs look like," the smooth officer remarked as they entered.

"Well, wait'll you taste 'em, Morillo," answered Larry. "These subs have so much flavor, once you bite into one of 'em it'll be like one big explosion!"

_KA-CHOOM!_

All at once a massive shockwave burst through the doorway, sending Larry and the two cops flying to the ground even as debris and shrapnel flew inward with powerful intensity! "Whoa! I didn't mean literally!" Larry cried.

"Everybody okay?" Chyre demanded, standing up and rubbing his forehead.

"Yeah…but our car isn't…" Morillo pointed outside. And sure enough, what used to be their cruiser was now nothing but a burning pile of scrap!

"My God…we could've still been inside…" Chyre swallowed visibly.

Now the three men went to the blown-open door and looked around in bewilderment—and saw terrified citizens running for cover. Most of them were, apparently, trying to escape from something further up the street. "What on earth's goin' on today?" Larry asked, truly scared.

"Stay put, Larry! We'll deal with this!" Morillo commanded, even as he and his partner ran from the pastry shop.

Both officers, steering clear of the burning debris, ran into the middle of the street—and stopped cold. "Oh, man…not HIM…" Chyre groaned.

Hovering several feet above street level was a huge purple sphere with a glass top…and visible inside that glass section was a man in a purple costume, wearing a white and purple helmet that partially masked the top half of his face. "Good day, officers!" he hailed the cops through a loudspeaker. "It's such a fine day out today, I thought I'd take my newly-finished Think Tank out for a test run! And so far it works wonders, I dare say."

Chyre immediately pulled out his walkie-talkie. "Dispatch, this is Officer Chyre, badge number 402781! Requesting backup at the City Center—the Thinker's on the loose, and he's got some kind of new weapon on him!"

"Roger that, Officer Chyre," the dispatcher's voice came over the other end. "Backup's on its way."

Morillo, meanwhile, had drawn his gun and was now shooting at the Think Tank's glass panel—but as he fired shot after shot, the bullets seemed to inexplicably ricochet off the glass instead of breaking it! Meanwhile, Thinker was watching the cop's efforts and laughing. "You're not going to be able to get through my Think Tank like that!" he boasted. "Or perhaps you've never heard of bulletproof glass?"

"Oh, yeah? Well, let's just see how bulletproof that thing really is!" Chyre shouted at him as he drew his own sidearm and blasted at the villain. But, as before, the bullets merely bounced off the Think Tank.

"How very amusing you are, pitting primal brawn against the result of my superior intellect," Thinker said scornfully. "Now—allow me to show you what the Think Tank's _really_ capable of!"

Suddenly, as the Think Tank hovered higher above the street, its glass top seemed to glow bright white—then a massive transparent beam shot out from the glass, swiftly tearing up the roadway! Realizing what was bound to happen, Chyre and Morillo ran for cover as the beam narrowly missed them, ripping up the sidewalk in the process!

"THAT is the power of the Think Tank!" Thinker laughed triumphantly. "It absorbs the psionic energy of my Thinking Cap…" and here he pointed for emphasis to his helmet, revealing that there were several small cables connected to the sides. "…and amplifies its destructive power a hundredfold. Against the might of my mind powers, you haven't a chance!"

The two cops looked up at the Think Tank in frustration. "Man, where's that backup already?" Chyre asked, exasperated.

Suddenly, from around a corner two massive police vans and several cruisers swerved into view. "Well, took them long enough," Morillo sighed.

The back doors for the vans burst open, and several SWAT-armored officers poured out into several places along the damaged street. Many of them were armed with shotguns, rifles and submachine guns, and two had rocket launchers on their shoulders. Meanwhile, more officers were pouring from the cruisers and readying their side-arms. "Men, prepare to fire on my mark!" the SWAT leader shouted.

Thinker shook his head slightly as he watched the cops aiming their weapons at him. Smirking, he moved all the fingers of both hands in a come-on gesture. "You can try."

"FIRE!" the SWAT leader yelled. And immediately all the officers let loose with a barrage of bullets at the Think Tank, some of them quickly emptying their magazines and reloading seemingly in the blink of an eye. The two SWAT cops wielding the rocket launchers carefully positioned themselves against two separate cruisers, while the other officers near them immediately moved elsewhere without letting up on their own firing. Then a moment later, both officers pulled their respective triggers—and two massive rockets blasted upwards toward the Think Tank, slamming into it and exploding on contact!

The explosion of both rockets swiftly created a dense cloud of smoke. "Cease fire! Cease fire!" the SWAT leader cried, and all the officers soon stopped and lowered their weapons slightly. The two cops with the rocket launchers leaned against their cruisers, as they and their fellow policemen peered into the smoke.

Standing to one side throughout all of this, Officers Chyre and Morillo were also looking into the smoke. "Did they…get him?" Morillo asked hopefully.

But almost as the words left his lips—the Think Tank burst from the smoke, completely unscathed! And…surrounding it was what appeared to be a force field of sorts. "My, that was quite a lot of fun, making me shield myself like that," Thinker addressed the cops. "Now…let's see _you_ try to shield against THIS!"

With that, the Think Tank's glass top began to glow again—

—but suddenly a large, transparent green baseball bat slammed into the top of the Tank, bringing it down to the ground with a CRASH! The impact was so great, the Tank created a huge crater in the street where it had been brought down, and momentarily caused nearby vehicles to jump off the ground! "What! Who dares—!" Thinker yelled out, now clearly bewildered and agitated.

Astonished at what had just happened, all the cops looked up…and were transfixed. "Would you look at that…" Morillo breathed.

Up there in the sky, but now floating down to the ground, was a figure dressed in green and black with emerald energy surrounding his body, and alongside him was a woman in a black-and-white costume, with white light energy coursing around her. "Hope we're not too late to help," the first newcomer apologized.

"No, no, you're just in time," the SWAT leader answered. "Thanks for that assist just now."

Suddenly there was a loud chuckle—coming from the Think Tank. "Heh…Green Lantern and Dr. Light," Thinker addressed the two newcomers through the loudspeaker. "This is going to be rather interesting now…my superior brain against the might of two of the Justice League."

"Better give up while you're ahead!" a loud voice shouted out—and then, a few seconds later, a red blur swooshed up to where Green Lantern and Dr. Light were standing, immediately taking the form of a man in a crimson costume with yellow lightning highlights here and there. "Get it? A-_head?"_

"Flash…save the corny jokes for AFTER he's apprehended, why don't you?" Lantern asked in a disapproving tone.

"Ah, the Flash is here, too, is he?" Thinker asked, a smile evident in his tone now. "You know, for a little while I was starting to wonder if you and your ridiculous puns were going to show up to face me."

Flash smirked. "Well, sorry to have kept you waiting for nothing, Thinker," he announced. "Because now that you've been _grounded,_ you're not gonna get the pleasure of taking me on."

"Oh, but I beg to disagree where that is concerned, my swift little friend," Thinker answered. "For you and your comrades have just made a very grave error in underestimating me…a testament to the inferiority of your minds compared to my genius!"

Suddenly, to the heroes' surprise, the Think Tank began to levitate from the crater! "Oh, no, you don't!" Lantern held up his fist, revealing his ring—and from that ring he fired a blast of green energy that swiftly formed into a gigantic hand, catching the Tank before it could go any further!

But Thinker just chuckled. "Fool."

All at once the Tank's glass top glowed yet again—and fired a massive psionic blast at the three heroes! "Watch out!" Flash cried as he swiftly rushed to one side at super-speed. Immediately Dr. Light raised her hands—and a massive light shone out from her fingertips, forming into a shield just as the Think Tank's beam crashed down on her and Lantern! In the meantime Lantern himself, having been momentarily distracted by the Tank's sudden assault, now redirected his ring's energy to further power Dr. Light's shield.

"Ha! You think your puny shield can stand up to ME?" Thinker demanded. And with that he sent an even more forceful blast at the two defending heroes; and this time it was so strong it actually broke right through the shield, knocking both Lantern and Dr. Light several feet backwards!

Flash, meanwhile, was taking in the scene from a short distance away. "Oh, man, this sucks…Hey, G.L.! Light! You guys okay?" he called out to them as he swiftly shot over to where they'd been blasted.

"Ugh…" Dr. Light shook her head to clear it. "This man, Thinker…he is one of your enemies, is he not? How can we stop him?"

"Hmmm…if he wasn't using this plaything of his, I could tell you," Flash admitted. "But this is the first time I've seen him use something that actually increases his power like this! And on top of that, it's flying—and I can't fly!"

"But _we_ can!" Lantern reminded him, standing up. "What if we could boost you up to him—could you do something then?"

"Maybe…" Flash narrowed his eyes.

"Well, figure it out quickly—he's coming!" Dr. Light said urgently.

Indeed, the Think Tank was firing another transparent beam down on the trio in an attack from above! Immediately Flash raced off to one side while Lantern and Dr. Light took to the sky, narrowly avoiding the beam as it smashed into the curb, sending gravel flying everywhere! "Hmph, missed," Thinker noted with some disappointment. "Oh, well, I'll get you three yet."

"Not if we get you first!" Lantern answered, flying around the Tank and firing several laser blasts at it from his ring in the process. Dr. Light followed suit, firing bursts of light from her hands at the Tank. But in response to this counter-assault, Thinker merely activated the Tank's force field again, repelling the two heroes' respective attacks.

"Try all you like, heroes; but absolutely nothing can penetrate my force field!" Thinker bragged.

"Oh, yeah, Thinker?" Flash called out to him from the ground below. "Well, how about this: This little toy of yours is just your way of making up for being the failure you really are!"

"Failure? What're you talking about, Flash? I am the greatest intellectual genius among Central City's Rogues!" Thinker scoffed.

"Oh, really? Well, if that's true…" Flash disdainfully rubbed his nose with his thumb. "…then why were you such a lousy lawyer back in the day?"

That seemed to get Thinker's attention. "WHAT?" he shouted.

"Oh, come on, dude, _everybody_ knows it's true," Flash continued. "You used to be the most useless attorney alive! In fact, you were so bad they videotaped your cases and sold the tape as 'What Not to Do in Law: A Tutorial for _Real_ Attorneys'!"

Now Thinker was livid. "Y-you shut up! I'm going to silence that flapping mouth of yours once and for all!" he roared.

The Think Tank's glass top shone again, and a huge psionic beam, larger than before, shot down at the ground towards Flash. The speedster immediately ran off, the beam continuing up the street after him in hot pursuit. "Stand still so I can blast you to pieces, runt!" Thinker screamed out.

Lantern and Dr. Light, meanwhile, had momentarily stopped blasting at the Think Tank to stare in astonishment at Flash as he insulted the villain. "My word…Flash really got him worked up," Dr. Light remarked.

Lantern shot a look at the Think Tank as it hovered off after Flash. "And that's not all he did—he just gave us a clue how we can beat this guy!" he replied. "Come on!"

Immediately the two flew off after the Tank, flying in low and approaching from behind even as up ahead Flash was still dodging the beams directed at him by the angry Thinker. "Okay…look at this thing," Lantern directed Dr. Light's attention to the Tank. "Notice anything different about it?"

Dr. Light looked at the Tank—and came to a realization. "Its shield…it's gone!"

"Yes!" Lantern nodded. "Which means that this weapon can only use Thinker's mind power to attack OR defend—it can't do both at the same time! So as long as the shield isn't in use, we can still stop it!"

"Then what are we waiting on? Let's put this tip that Flash has given us to good use!" Dr. Light's hands immediately shone with intense energy—and then she blasted a cannon-like burst of light at the Think Tank's underside!

The attack slammed into the Tank, causing the Thinker himself to be rocked about violently inside. "Urgh!" he grunted as he was slammed to and fro from the impact. "Why, you little…you won't bring down the Think Tank, even with its force field inactive!" he shouted at the two heroes. "Even the glass here was able to repel bullets—what makes you think your energy blasts will make a difference?"

"Hey, chrome-dome! Don't tell me you've forgotten about me already?" a familiar voice shouted.

Thinker immediately turned, in time to see Flash running back up the street toward him. "Argh…more insults, Flash?" he asked angrily, again firing his Tank's beam at the speedster.

"Ha!" Flash kept on running, this time in a sort of zigzag formation as he dodged the beam. "Say, how many lawyers does it take to be a total never-was? Answer: one—and that's you!"

"GRAAARGH!" Thinker howled as the Think Tank's glass top charged up again to fire the beam—but suddenly two giant beams, one of green light and one of white light, slammed into the top of the Tank, grounding it once again with a solid WHAM as it hit the pavement and made another crater!

"Guys! Gimme a boost, quick!" Flash exclaimed, now running up to the Tank.

Dr. Light complied, shooting a beam of light toward the ground that immediately transformed into a sort of walkway Flash could run on. The speedster swiftly ran up the walkway of light, presently jumping onto the Tank's glass top, putting him directly above Thinker's head in the process. "Hey, Thinker! Watch this!" he cried as he pressed his palms to the glass, both arms from the elbow down suddenly beginning to vibrate rapidly.

Dazed from the sudden rapid and forceful drop to the ground, Thinker heard Flash's voice and looked up, in time to see the speedster's hands vibrating against the glass. "What the—what're you doing?" he exclaimed in surprise.

Then all of a sudden—_CHA-BOOM!_ The whole glass top exploded in a burst of sharp shrapnel that flew in all directions! Even Dr. Light and Lantern, in the process of floating back to the ground, had to quickly shield themselves against flying glass! "My word!" Dr. Light exclaimed.

"Man, I _hate_ when he uses that trick of his…" Lantern muttered.

The duo currently landed and beheld the volume of dust and smoke that the explosion had incurred. "Flash? Are you okay?" Dr. Light called out.

"Hey, man, if you're alive after what you just did, say something!" Lantern hollered.

By this time the police squad, which had kept a good distance back during the battle, came up to the scene, Morillo and Chyre among them. "Uh, you guys…is everything okay…?" Morillo asked the heroes warily.

Without replying, Lantern worriedly flew directly over the Think Tank, still enveloped in combined smoke and dust. "C'mon, Flash, talk to me!" he cried.

Then—a sudden gust of wind blew upwards from the Tank, clearing away the obscuring smoke. And…right there they could all see that the Tank's glass top had been completely blasted away, and steam and smoke were now rising up from the inside. And there, inside the Tank itself, holding an unconscious Thinker by the front of his vest with one hand and spinning the other in a circular motion at super-speed to clear the smoke, was Flash. "Hey, guys," he greeted them cheerfully.

----------

**_12:20 p.m., moments later_**

In what seemed like very little time at all, a lot more police had converged on the scene and placed police barriers around the site of the battle, to keep out all passersby that were congregating there. A police van with a containment cell in the back was open and waiting for the captive Thinker to be placed inside. The criminal was now securely handcuffed and sans helmet, revealing his real face—a middle-aged, bald-headed man with a scowl fixed on his mouth. Some distance away, his confiscated Thinking Cap was being placed into a metal box by the police.

Standing a little distance away, Flash, Green Lantern and Dr. Light surveyed the scene. "Guess you really had a reason to call him 'chrome-dome,' after all," Lantern chuckled, observing Thinker's bald head.

"Yeah," Flash laughed. Then, on a whim, he glanced over at Lantern's own head. "Say, G.L…."

"I swear, if you call me that, you'd better not fall asleep tonight," Lantern answered, dead serious as he glared at Flash.

"Well, never mind," Dr. Light said warmly. "Now the battle is over, the Thinker is captured and his invention wrecked, and Central City is saved."

"Yep!" Flash said cheerfully. "And now we can all kick back and relax a bit!"

"Excuse me, Flash! Over here!"

"Hmmm?" Turning, Flash saw several news crews standing behind the barricade. "Hey, could you excuse me, guys—I gotta look good for the news people!"

"Oh, brother," muttered Lantern, even as Flash zipped over to where the news teams stood. "C'mon, let's go after him before he starts shooting off his mouth all over TV."

"Is it really that bad?" Dr. Light asked, a little bemused.

"Trust me, Doc, you don't know him as well as I do; when it comes to TV interviews, he's like a kid in a candy store," Lantern told her.

Now Dr. Light chuckled. "Ah, I see…like Booster Gold, perhaps?"

Lantern barely managed to suppress an outburst of laughter. "Ah, no—nothing like that. At least Flash does have one thing Booster doesn't—more humility and control."

Meanwhile Flash was chatting away to the reporters. "No need to worry—we took down Thinker, he's going back to jail, and everybody gets to go home safely."

"Excuse me, Flash…" One of the reporters held out her microphone to him. "Linda Park, Channel 4 News. What if Thinker breaks out of prison and makes another dangerous invention again?" she queried. "What will you do then?"

"Well…about that…" Flash shrugged. "If he breaks out again—which I doubt he'll be doing anytime soon—then I'll be around to stop him! And, of course, the rest of the League will be there to assist me if I need the assistance!"

Looking behind Flash at that moment, the reporters noticed the other two League members walking up. "What about you guys—care to comment on the battle just now?" someone else addressed them.

"Well," Dr. Light stepped forward, "I think Flash may have already said what we would say. But I will add this: The important thing is that no innocent people were hurt during the fight, and now we can let the police handle the rest of this matter."

"Maybe you should've let the police deal with the situation themselves in the first place…"

They all looked up in one direction at the voice, and beheld a man stepping past the barrier toward them. "And you are…?" queried Lantern.

The newcomer had dark brown hair, walked with a cane, and bore a scowl on his face. Reaching into his coat, he flipped out a badge. "Hunter Zolomon, Meta-human Crimes Division for the city's police department," he introduced himself. "The recapture of the Thinker was strictly a _police_ matter. We never called you Justice League guys to help—we would've been able to apprehend him without your assistance."

"That's not what it looked like to us," remarked Dr. Light.

"I don't care what it looked like to you," Officer Zolomon retorted. "The point is, you shouldn't have interfered. Next time, leave the crook-hunting to those people who actually wear the badges!"

"Listen here, you—" Dr. Light started, but then she felt Flash's hand on her shoulder. "Flash…?"

"Leave him be, Doc," Flash shook his head. "The man's just expressing his opinion, that's all. It's not a crime to do so."

Officer Zolomon scowled. He turned and hobbled away from them. "Guess he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, huh?" remarked Lantern.

"There are lots of people in law enforcement who feel the way he does, I guess," Flash replied. "In that case, he'll just make one more."

"Well, let's hope we don't see that one again anytime soon," Dr. Light grumbled disdainfully.

"Uh…hey, guys—while you're still here, how about I take you to see the museum that the city dedicated to me?" Flash asked, hoping to change the topic.

"Oh, yeah, that's right—you were telling me about that," Lantern replied. "Sure, let's go check it out!"

"I agree—I would love to see this museum, as well," agreed Dr. Light. And with that, Flash turned and raced away, and the other two flew after him.

Already heading back to her news van, Linda Park turned and watched as the three heroes took off. "So cool…"

_**CHAPTER 1 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 2 COMING UP!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 02

_**The Flash Museum, 12:26 p.m.**_

The huge statue of the Flash stood right before the entrance to the elaborately designed building. Carved exactly in the hero's likeness, it overlooked the parking lot that had been built for drivers' convenience only a few minutes' walk away from the entrance; on each side of the lot, several red banners bearing the speedster's insignia fluttered in the wind.

Flying overhead, Green Lantern noted the whole scenery with a hint of envy in his eyes. "Would you look at that…the most obnoxious member of the League's original seven gets a whole museum dedicated to him, and a statue to boot," he remarked. "And I thought he was just exaggerating when he told me about this place."

"I didn't quite believe it myself at first, when I first learned about it," Dr. Light admitted. "But now, I can't help but feel a little jealous."

Presently the two landed right in front of the statue, where Flash was already waiting for them. "Took you guys long enough," he remarked. "So, let's head inside, huh?"

"So, Flash, exactly what can be seen here at this museum, anyway?" Dr. Light inquired as they all headed for the entrance.

"Oh, you know, all sorts of stuff…plastic dummies of my Rogues Gallery, replicas of their weapons or inventions, replicas of my most memorable adventures…stuff like that," answered Flash.

"Don't let all the glory get to your head, now," Lantern warned good-naturedly.

"You know, it may not look like it, but this is actually the second time this place has been built," Flash commented. "The first time, three of my enemies came in and trashed the place while trying to kill me. Of course, that was a good while back."

"Yeah, I recall you told me that," answered Lantern. "And I also recall you said that Batman and Orion were here to help you fend those guys off."

"I'm amazed that Orion would have anything to do with you at all," Dr. Light remarked. "Or with anyone, for that matter."

"Well, most of the original seven were off on missions the day they had the opening ceremony for the museum," Flash explained. "Bats was at monitor duty, and I really wanted a member of the original seven to be here, so…I just, you know, up and asked. And Orion—he just came along for the ride."

By now they were walking through the doors of the museum. There were people inside already, checking out the various displays; some looked up and immediately recognized the city's local superhero. "Hey, look! It's Flash! Hey, Flash, what's up?" several of them called to him.

"Hey, everybody!" Flash waved. "How're you all doing?"

A number of the patrons immediately ran up to him, surrounding him somewhat. "Flash, could I have your autograph?"

"Could you, like, take a picture with me?"

"You gotta come to my frat house's barbecue next week! It's gonna be awesome!"

Standing off to one side a little, Lantern and Dr. Light watched as Flash's fans bombarded him with greetings and requests. "Okay…now I'm really envying him more and more," Lantern remarked. "I mean, how _does_ he do it? It's not every day somebody asks me for _my _autograph."

"Well, perhaps it's because he finds time to mingle with civilians even in the midst of his duties—surely that explains it, no?" Dr. Light suggested. "That is our role as protectors of the populace—we should be able to relate to them, even if we have superpowers and they do not. I suppose, of all of us in the League, Flash does that best."

"…and don't worry, Mrs. Brackowsky, I'll stop on over later and help you move your furniture," Flash was currently addressing an elderly fan. "Just make sure the dog's tied up—I don't want him biting me in my, uh, soft spot like he did last time." That elicited a little laughter from the crowd present.

"Oh, Flash, Tiny was just showing affection!" Mrs. Brackowsky said warmly.

"Yeah…sure he was…" Flash involuntarily put a hand to his rump, prompting more laughter from the others present.

Suddenly a pager beeper went off. As the crowd members looked at each other, Flash immediately reached into a pocket and looked at his pager. "Oops—duty calls!" he exclaimed. "Sorry, everyone, but I gotta go. But I'll do my best to stop by each of you on my return patrol later, okay?"

"Not a prob, man!" one of his fans replied cheerfully.

Flash then eased his way through the patrons and went over to Lantern and Dr. Light. "Sorry, guys, but it's almost time for my shift at my day job," he said to them in a low tone. "Wish I could stick around to give you the grand tour of this place, but…"

"Hey, no worries," Lantern assured him. "We'll continue looking around here and then head back to the Watchtower. See you later."

"Thanks!" One second later Flash ran out of the museum at super-speed, leaving his comrades behind to continue exploring the museum on their own, and his fans waving after him.

----------

_**Central City Police Department, 12:32 p.m.**_

The CCPD's main office was bustling with activity. Some officers were pushing handcuffed criminals inside ahead of them; others were working furiously at their desks; still others were standing around with coffee mugs in their hands. The desk sergeant was busily punching in new information on the computer; at one end of the room, a printer and a fax machine were at work printing or faxing information on case reports or criminal biographies.

Presently the front door was pushed open—and in strolled a young man with striking red hair. On his shirt pocket was pinned a work ID with his picture and the name _Wally West_ penned at the bottom in his signature. "Hey there, Kate," he greeted the desk sergeant. "You still sure you don't wanna go out with me sometime?"

"Only in your dreams, Wally," she replied, quite familiar with his regular antics. "You'd better hurry up or else you'll get yelled at again for lateness."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," he quipped with a smirk.

Nodding, the desk sergeant opened the small wooden grill, and with that Wally headed into the station. Some of his familiars among the cops called greetings to him. "Wally! About time you got here, man! How about having a coffee with us?"

"Sorry, guys, but I gotta get inside right away," Wally apologized. "Duty calls, you know?"

"Ah, well," one of them answered and shrugged. "Maybe next time, eh?"

"Yeah," Wally nodded, and then headed off down one of the station's corridors.

A moment later he happened upon a locked door, with a sign above it marked _FORENSIC LAB_ in big bold letters. Underneath that, in smaller writing, was the warning: _Unauthorized Persons Not Allowed._ Chuckling a little as he observed this, Wally turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.

Inside, the lab was a rather large, fluorescent-lit room with numerous shelves and cabinets, stacked with beakers and test tubes that were filled with all sorts of strange liquids and other paraphernalia. There were a number of desks on which rested microscopes, computers and a few hard-bound books here and there. Several lab technicians were hard at work doing research for one case or another; upon Wally's entrance, some of them looked up.

"Well, well, well, the late-bug makes his grand appearance!" one lab tech jovially remarked.

"Hey there, Rick," Wally greeted the man. "But, please, I can't be _that_ late, can I? It's only two…" His eye darted to a clock on the wall. "Er, make that _four_ minutes."

"Glad to see you could make it after all, Wally," another voice reached his ears. Turning, Wally came face-to-face with his supervisor, an older man with straight blond hair. "And you're just in time, too," the supervisor continued. "I was looking for someone to do a little investigative work on our latest acquisition for me."

"Latest acquisition?" Wally cocked an eyebrow.

"Just follow me and I'll show you," the supervisor said, and he turned and walked in another direction.

Puzzled, Wally followed his boss into a separate room. This room had many more shelves lined up against the walls, filled almost to maximum capacity with boxes, liquid-filled beakers and clipped-together papers. In the middle of the room was a mahogany table, on which rested a larger-than-average microscope and a medium-sized box. And…standing by the table were three men, all bearing a look of utter gravity on their faces.

Wally's eyes lit up in recognition. "Hey…I know you guys! I've seen you hanging around the Meta-human Crimes Division here at the station!" he exclaimed.

"That's right, Wally; they _are_ with that division," the supervisor affirmed. "And now, you're going to be formally introduced."

One by one he pointed out the three men. "Detective Jared Morillo…" a tall, dark-skinned man of seemingly mixed African-Hispanic descent. "…Detective Fred Chyre…" an elderly, broad-shouldered, grizzled-looking man with a graying hairstyle. "…and Hunter Zolomon, department profiler." This last man was a brown-haired man, perhaps a couple of years older than Wally, wielding a walking cane. "Gentlemen, meet Wally West, one of our department's most reliable scientists."

One by one, the three officers shook hands with Wally. "You seem a bit young to be in such a high position here, if you don't mind my saying so," Morillo remarked in a smooth voice.

"Wet behind the ears is more like it," Chyre said gruffly.

"Well, as long as he can get the job done, age shouldn't be a factor," Zolomon stated simply.

"Yeah," Wally nodded. "So…I take it that whatever it is I'm supposed to examine or whatever, has something to do with a case you guys have been working on lately?"

"You got that right, kid," nodded Chyre. He then indicated the box that was on the table. "Go ahead, open it up—but be careful."

Nodding, Wally turned to the box and reached his hands forward for it. Grasping its lid, he carefully opened it up…and blinked at what he saw inside. "Hmmm…and this is what, exactly? It looks like a piece of metal of sorts…" And he reached inside to pick it up.

"Actually, that's a lot more than just an ordinary piece of metal," Morillo informed him.

Just as Wally's fingers closed around the metal piece—it suddenly slipped from his grasp and fell back into the box. Raising an eyebrow, he tried to grasp it again—same result. Now frowning deeply, he tried again and again to pick up the metal, but every time it kept slipping from him. "What the…! I can't get a grip on this thing!"

"See what I mean?" Morillo chuckled. "Told you it wasn't ordinary."

In growing frustration, Wally fiercely shoved his hand into the box—but the metal piece ended up flying out of his grasp yet again, landing on the table and sliding around a little before finally slowing to a stop. "Careful, Wally!" his supervisor scolded him.

But Wally's attention was now held by the metal's sliding along on the tabletop. "Whoa…that's not something you see every day…an object with a total lack of friction…"

"Friction?" Chyre raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"Yeah," Wally nodded. "Normally, friction allows you to have a grip on something, no matter how slippery it might be to touch…it's the same thing that keeps, like, tires on a pavement from sliding all over the road. But to be unable to get a good handle on this thing right here, even with it being as flat as it is…" and he cast a look at the metal piece. "Uh, where exactly did you get this, anyway?"

"Well…" Zolomon narrowed his eyes. "This was recovered from the Justice League's battle with the Thinker a short while ago."

Wally stopped short at that. "Oh, yeah…I saw that on the news on my way here. Thinker was using some kind of new machine of sorts to make trouble downtown…"

"And he nearly toasted me and Chyre in the process, as well as the backup that we'd called for," Morillo sighed. "Good thing the Justice League came along when they did."

Zolomon turned to Morillo. "Good thing? Tell me, are the Justice League cops? Are they even government-sanctioned? They're just a bunch of costumed show-boaters who have no business doing the job of the police to begin with! Look how much damage they caused to downtown in that battle—damage that's going to cost the city!"

"Hey, hey, cool down, Hunter," Chyre admonished him. "Who cares whether it was us or the Justice League that caught Thinker, as long as he _was_ caught?"

"And how do you know they're not secretly in cahoots with villains like Thinker?" Zolomon shot back, his grip on his cane tightening. "For all we know, that battle could've well been staged all along!"

"Ahem, gentlemen," the supervisor cleared his throat to gain their attention. "Could we get back to the topic at hand? Namely, this piece of metal that's here…"

"Ah, yeah," Morillo nodded, also wanting to quell the impending quarrel. "This metal piece was broken or blasted off from Thinker's…Think Tank, I believe he called it…but the whole weapon, for the most part, was able to withstand even rocket fire from the SWAT team. Now, we don't know for certain what kind of metal could be that impervious and be so slippery to grip at the same time. That's where you guys come in—we'd like for you to identify this for us, if possible."

"Not a problem!" Wally said eagerly. "Just leave it to me!"

"All right, then," said Zolomon, having now calmed down somewhat. "Just send your report to our division as soon as you're done, is all you do."

With that, the three officers turned and headed out of the room, leaving Wally and the supervisor with the metal shard. "Whew…gotta say, boss, you really managed to defuse that situation quick," Wally remarked, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead.

"Yes, it really would've gotten out of hand otherwise," the supervisor agreed. "You don't know those three very well, so let me tell you about them for future reference, all right?"

"What's to know?" Wally inquired.

The supervisor's eyes twinkled knowingly. "Chyre and Morillo have been with the force for quite a number of years…but Chyre's got a really bad temper that's kept him as a beat cop till pretty recently, and Morillo was transferred here from Keystone City only two weeks or so ago and is still not very well known around here by most. Both guys are honest, to be sure, but pretty difficult to be around if you get them riled up."

"Okay…" Wally nodded. "And what about that Zolomon guy? He sure didn't sound as if he even liked the Justice League very much."

"Well, I don't think it's really the Justice League he dislikes, per se…I'm guessing it's a general hatred of all costumed people," the supervisor shrugged. "But then again, he's only been with the department two months so far, and he usually sticks to himself and doesn't talk much about himself, so it's sort of difficult to read him. But this much I'll tell you about Zolomon, though—his insight into the habits of super-criminals has given us a lot of breaks in difficult cases since he joined up with us. Already our workload's been cut down by a quarter of what it used to be."

"Heh…so he's real indispensable, isn't he?" Wally chuckled.

"Now, now, Wally, do I detect jealousy?" the supervisor asked.

"No, no, not at all," Wally shook his head. "Ah…guess I'd better get started on the analysis for this thing, eh?"

"Yes, you do that. Inform me as soon as you're done." And the supervisor then turned and walked out of the room.

Wally sighed and looked at the metal piece, sitting motionless on the table. "Hmmm…let's just hope I can somehow manage to get a grip on you…"

Gingerly, he cupped his hand around the metal piece, sliding it toward the edge of the table and into his other hand. Then, holding it in both palms with extreme, if exaggerated, care, he stepped toward the door to go back to the main lab. "And let's also hope that if I can't identify you here, maybe somebody back at the Watchtower or Metro Tower CAN…"

----------

_**Central City Channel 4 News, 12:45 p.m., in the meantime**_

Central City's local news station was currently bustling with activity. Journalists were at their desks, placing and receiving numerous phone calls for information on various reports; all around them, camera crew members were rushing about in search of replacement recording tape, camera lenses or batteries. In closed-off recording studios not very far away, news anchors were reading various news items…most of it having to do with the Justice League's battle with the Thinker earlier.

"Just an hour ago, the notorious criminal known as the Thinker was recaptured by authorities after a battle with members of the Justice League in downtown Central City…"

"The Thinker is the criminal alias of former attorney Clifford DeVoe, disbarred in disgrace a number of years ago…"

"When asked to comment on the battle, this is what local hero, the Flash, had to say…" followed by a short video clip of the speedster reassuring the reporters and by extension the populace.

Sitting at her desk in her office, Linda Park was watching TV. Specifically, she was watching a taped replay of the earlier interview with the Flash, Green Lantern and…what was that other person's name again? "Hey, Marla! That lady in black and white that was at the fight with the Thinker—you remember her name?" she called to the open door not far away.

A moment later, in entered a stout blond woman with a stern look on her face. "That 'lady's' name is Dr. Light," she reminded the dark-haired reporter. "And how many times have you watched that replay since I came in here ten minutes ago—this makes, what, maybe fifteen times by now?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Linda snapped.

Marla put her hands on her hips and gave Linda a look. Seeing this, the other woman sighed. "Okay, maybe ten times or so…"

"Come on, Linda, this isn't funny," Marla grumbled, and with that she walked over to Linda's desk and switched the TV off.

"Wha—HEY! I'm watching that for extra clarification, if you don't mind!" Linda exclaimed.

"Uh-huh. Sure you are." Marla shook her head. "Extra clarification that, yes, the Flash was even giving you a few seconds of his time in that interview. Linda, please…I'm starting to get worried about you now."

"And why is that?" Linda inquired. "I'm quite fine, Marla, really!"

"I doubt that." Marla leaned on the edge of Linda's desk and crossed her arms. "Linda, every time I talk to you, all I hear from you is 'Oh, Flash is so cool and so hot at the same time!' or some equivalent or other. It's got to stop, I'm telling you."

"And what, pray tell, makes you dislike him so?" Linda challenged.

Marla shook her head. "I don't dislike the guy, Linda—with everything he's done for the city, who could? But my main problem isn't him…it's your reaction to him. You're like a giddy schoolgirl when he's brought up in any discussion."

"Am not!" Linda answered defiantly.

"Need I remind you of what happened that time when you and I went to cover the story of the Flash Museum, back when it was just opened?" Marla asked. "Do you want me to remind you of just how expertly you embarrassed yourself with your crush on the guy—on live TV, might I add?"

At that Linda's whole face turned red and she covered it up with one hand. "Ugh, PLEASE don't remind me…I'm just lucky I still have my job after _that_ faux pas…"

"That's why you have me as your camerawoman—to help you pull yourself out of sticky situations like that!" Marla replied, a grin slowly coming over her face. "At least you were able to save your reputation with a concise report on the battle that followed your slip-up—and I was able to get it all on tape for everyone's benefit!"

Linda nodded. She still remembered the details of that showdown that had wrecked the Flash Museum—the intervention in the opening ceremony by the criminals Mirror Master, Captain Boomerang and Captain Cold, and how Flash had been able to hold them all off with some assistance from the mysterious Batman and that other man in the metal mask. "Yeah…it was certainly an entertaining show, wasn't it?" she sighed. "I mean, besides the fact that the Museum was wrecked and I accidentally got trapped in one of Mirror Master's mirrors in the process…"

"But hey—everything worked out in the end, didn't it?" Marla asked her. "Those guys got sent back to jail, you got your story, and the Museum was rebuilt a little while later on. Everyone's satisfied."

"Yeah, I guess," Linda shrugged.

"You guess?" Marla asked incredulously. "Oh, wait a minute—don't tell me you _still_ haven't forgotten how, right before those guys crashed the party, you gave Flash your number—only for him to give back the paper with his signed autograph?" And she snickered a little bit at that.

"Ugh, PLEASE don't remind me of that either," and Linda held her hand up to Marla as if to ward off something evil.

"Well, don't you worry, little Linda," Marla answered, patting Linda on the shoulder. "You're not going to be single forever. In due time you'll find that special someone who's meant just for you—and your little crush on Flash will be nothing but a phase."

"This, coming from a woman who is herself still single," Linda pointed out.

"So what?" Marla shrugged indifferently. "It just means that that one perfect guy for me hasn't come into my life as yet. A little extra waiting never hurt anybody."

Presently she stood up. "Well, anyhow, I'm gonna go get a couple of sandwiches from the vending machine…you need anything?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," Linda nodded. "Bring back one of those sandwiches for me…and a couple cans of Coke."

"I swear, you're going to give yourself diabetes one day with all the Cokes you drink," Marla remarked as she strolled out of the room.

Shaking her head as she watched her camerawoman depart, Linda presently switched the TV back on. The tape had by this time come to an end and was now rewinding. "Okay…eleventh time's the charm," she sighed, leaning forward on her desk and looking on dreamily as the sporadic images of the Flash on the screen passed by in a blur.

_**CHAPTER 2 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 3 COMING UP!**_


	3. Chapter 3

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 03

_**Justice League Watchtower, orbiting Planet Earth, 1:00 p.m. Earth Time**_

The massive Watchtower, the space-faring headquarters of the Justice League, floated just outside of Earth's orbit. Out there in the star-lit void, all was silent, all was calm, all was peaceful…

"MAN, THIS BITES!"

Inside one of the Watchtower's empty hallways, a blond man in a blue and gold costume with a yellow visor leaned against the wall, letting out a massive groan of frustration. In one hand he held a mop; at his feet was a bucket of water and cleaning solutions. Opposite him, the glass panes that served simultaneously as windows and walls showed the Earth seemingly right next door, though in reality it was several hundred miles away from the Watchtower. And on the man's face was a look of rage; though the visor hid his eyes, that rage was well-expressed in the snarl that was on his lips.

"Look what they've reduced me to! Me, Booster Gold! I'm reduced to _clean-up duty!"_ he spat. "Even managing crowd control as part of a bigger mission is better than THIS—at least there's some dignity to that!"

As Booster continued his ranting, a gold metallic robot hovered up the hallway, coming in his direction. "That's not quite what you said after that one mission where you _were_ placed on crowd control," it spoke to him in an electronic voice. "And just so you know, after this hallway you still have the dining area, the bathrooms and the Javelin hangar to mop, plus you still haven't done the dishes in the kitchen or washed the maintenance personnel's dirty uniforms as yet."

"Skeets, let _me_ remind _you_ that this makes the seventeenth time within this hour that you've come to remind me of everything I've been assigned to do," Booster growled at the robot. "And if I hear it from you one more time, don't blame me if you end up as nothing but scrap metal!"

"Well, Booster, you WERE the one who went to Mr. Terrific this morning complaining that all the missions you've been sent out on in the last month have been 'kid's play,' as you so eloquently put it," Skeets informed him. "And you demanded—not asked politely, mind you—but _demanded_ that he assign you something more challenging to do for a mission."

"Well, how was I to know he was going to make me do K.P all over the Watchtower?" Booster protested. "I mean, come on! I helped fight off Darkseid's invading army when they stormed Earth four months ago, didn't I? You'd think everybody could at least show me a little more respect and appreciation after what went down that time!"

"True, you did play a significant role in repelling the invasion force," Skeets answered. "But then, so did everyone else in the Justice League. And I seem to recall that you were the only one who, just days after the battle was won, started bragging about the number of Darkseid's minions you fought off in one single skirmish…and, needless to say, a number of League members weren't pleased with that."

"Pfft! They were just jealous!" Booster scoffed.

"Or maybe you were just too full of hot air for your own good," another voice spoke up, startling Booster.

"Wha…?" Booster flinched when he saw who it was. "Oh, man…!"

Skeets, however, did not seem perturbed in the least. "Hello, Mr. Terrific."

Standing before them was the coordinator for the Justice League, a serious-looking man clad in a red, white and black jacket and wearing a black mask in the shape of a T over his face. "Skeets," he returned the greeting, nodding at the robot. Then he turned to Booster, and his red eyes seemed to bore into the other man's face. "A word of advice, Booster: If you'd spend as much time mopping the floor as you do griping, you'd be surprised just how much faster the work gets done."

"What're you doing here? I thought you'd be monitoring the other heroes who're out on _missions,"_ Booster remarked, emphasizing the last word with bitter contempt in his tone.

"Well, I was, but since nothing serious seemed to be taking place in that regard, I thought I'd personally come and see how far you'd gotten with these chores I gave you," Mr. Terrific answered coolly. "And evidently, you still have a long way before you'll be able to say you're done."

Booster's grip on the mop tightened. "Look, I didn't join the Justice League to end up as a housekeeper!" he growled. "I should be out there fighting crime or battling super-villains, not mopping floors! This is just a complete waste of time!"

"I don't think so," Mr. Terrific replied sternly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Now, look. The way I see it right now, you've got two choices. You can continue mopping, and then when you're done with that you can go on to the other little jobs I gave you to do, and finish them too. Or…you can go back to Earth and fight crime all you want—but in exchange, you'll have to surrender your League membership completely, plus run the risk of having not one single criminal or super-villain take you seriously, or worse…having the entire populace mistake you for Green Lantern. Again."

Booster's jaw tightened…then he sighed. "Fine. I'll mop."

"See? You can make a smart decision when you put your mind to it. Now get back to work," Mr. Terrific advised him.

With a fury, Booster plunged the mop into the bucket, very nearly splashing himself and Mr. Terrific in the process. Shrugging, Mr. Terrific turned and started to walk off…but as he took six paces away from Booster, he paused. "Hey, Booster…"

"Yeeeeeeeeeessss?" Booster asked, his voice full of angry strain, even as he continued mopping with a vengeance.

Mr. Terrific shook his head. "If respect's what you really want, then remember this. It's not merely given…it's earned."

That said, he resumed walking off. Muttering under his breath, Booster went on mopping, while Skeets floated nearby, looking on.

----------

A few minutes later, Mr. Terrific arrived back at the Watchtower's monitor room. There was a huge monitor on one side of the room, flanked by several smaller monitors all around it, and accompanied by a huge keyboard set up by itself on an upraised platform. Several dozen feet below, there was the Watchtower's teleporter, which all League members used for emergency transport to and from any designated point on Earth. A few maintenance workers walked along, some with clipboards in their hands; others were busy at nearby controls, listening out for incoming calls or monitoring interstellar radar systems. As Mr. Terrific entered the room, some of them hailed him with hands upraised in greeting; rather absently, he returned the greetings likewise.

At length he sat down at the big keyboard—and just at that moment Green Lantern's voice came over the radio frequency. "Watchtower, two for transport."

"Two?" Mr. Terrific inquired, answering the call.

"Yeah, me and Dr. Light," Lantern acknowledged. "Flash can't come back with us for now; he's got work to do at his day job."

"Understood. Stand by," Mr. Terrific answered.

He tapped a few keys on the keyboard and waited…and a few seconds later, two pods on the teleporter glowed with a bright white light. And then, in a moment, both Green Lantern and Dr. Light's forms materialized in full. "Welcome back, you two," Mr. Terrific hailed them. "I saw the news report. Job well done."

The other two heroes swiftly flew up to the platform to join Mr. Terrific. "Yes, everything went well," Dr. Light reported. "We were able to defeat the Thinker, and he was apprehended by the authorities."

"And we were able to take a look at Flash's dedicated museum while we were down there," Lantern added with a chuckle.

"Hmm. I've heard it's a pretty nice attraction," Mr. Terrific remarked. "Maybe one of these days when I'm on my day-off, I'll pass by there and check it out for myself."

"Just make sure you do so as a civilian," Dr. Light told him. "Not everybody in Central City is as friendly toward meta-humans or people in costumes as we had been led to believe."

"Oh?" Mr. Terrific raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, yeah…I'd forgotten about that," Lantern said thoughtfully. "Right after we captured Thinker, this one cop came forward saying that it was a police matter and we shouldn't have butted in."

"Oh—THAT," and Mr. Terrific shook his head. "Yeah, I saw that little bit on the news, also. And I also saw that Dr. Light here was going to engage him all-out." He cast a searching glance at her.

Dr. Light lowered her head a little, a deep red blush appearing on her cheeks. "I apologize if I caused any embarrassment," she said softly. "It's just…the man seemed so unappreciative…I wasn't sure how I could abide that."

"Hey, don't beat yourself up over it," Mr. Terrific reassured her. "At the very least, no harm was done in that regard. Anyway, a lot of people among the general populace are like that."

"That's what Flash said, too," said Lantern.

"Well…are there any other missions for us to undergo at this time?" Dr. Light asked.

"No, nothing that needs our immediate attention right now," Mr. Terrific answered. "You guys go ahead and take a break. After that fight with the Thinker, you deserve it."

"Well, in that case," Lantern announced, "I'm gonna go to the lounge and grab something to eat. Want to come, Light?"

But Dr. Light shook her head. "No, you go ahead, Green Lantern," she replied. "I'll probably stop by in a little while from this."

"Well, all right, suit yourself," said Lantern. "You want anything, Terrific?"

"Actually, yeah," Mr. Terrific replied. "If they've got any chicken salad sandwiches, ask them to save one for me. It's gonna be a little while before I can leave here again."

"Again?" Lantern wondered.

"Yeah. I assigned Booster Gold to do a couple of chores around the Watchtower…I had to go check his progress just a while ago," Mr. Terrific explained.

"Oh, I got it," and now Lantern couldn't resist a big smile. "Well, all right. If they have any of those sandwiches, I'll make sure they save you one." And he turned and walked towards the sliding doors leading out of the room.

Watching for a moment as Lantern departed, Dr. Light presently sighed and leaned against the platform's railing. Mr. Terrific regarded her. "Something bothering you, Light?"

"Mr. Terrific…it just doesn't make any sense to me," Dr. Light answered quietly. "Do people really feel so ungrateful about what we do, or try to do, for them?"

Mr. Terrific's eyes narrowed. "What that cop said is still upsetting you, isn't it?"

"Should it not?" Dr. Light answered. "We risked our lives to defeat a powerful super-villain today. And then, next thing we knew, that man came up to us and said that we shouldn't have interfered. But if we hadn't, all those officers who fought today might well be dead right now! Couldn't he see that?"

Mr. Terrific turned to her and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Listen," he spoke to her. "That guy's not the first one who's ever held bias against us. You know this. Remember back when Cadmus was still up, how the League's good name was smeared?"

"But that was Lex Luthor's manipulation," Dr. Light pointed out.

"True enough," Mr. Terrific admitted. "But there are lots of people who've never been supportive of the idea of costumed heroes running around to begin with, for one reason or another. Anti-meta-human sentiment is no different from any other form of prejudice, and like any other form of prejudice it's not going to go away no matter what we do. Believe me, I know."

"So…what _can_ we do, then?" Dr. Light asked in a now-dejected tone.

"We can keep fighting the good fight…and also remember that even though there are going to be folks who don't appreciate our help, there're also going to be a lot more who do." Mr. Terrific nodded. "So, cheer up. Just because one civilian doesn't like us doesn't mean it's the end of the world—and of course, you know how many times we've come close to THAT."

Dr. Light now smiled a little. "Yes…I do." She looked at him. "Thank you."

"Hey, it's what I'm here for," and Mr. Terrific nodded reassuringly.

----------

In the meantime, Green Lantern was walking along the corridor, occasionally glancing out through the glass partition at the Earth. So absorbed in the magnificent view was he that he barely registered the fact that he was now coming up on Skeets and Booster Gold, who was still mopping the floor. Until…

"Good afternoon, Green Lantern. I would advise you not to step on this section of floor at present."

"Huh?" Startled out of his reverie by Skeet's electronic voice, Lantern glanced down at the floor and immediately understood. "Oh, right. My bad." And in a moment's notice he activated his ring's power, creating a green energy field around himself that allowed him to hover well above the floor.

Still with a scowl on his lips, Booster was roughly pushing the mop along the floor, gripping the mop handle so tightly that it seemed he might break it with just a little more pressure. "Hey, uh, Booster, you might want to give that mop a breather; the way you're holding it, you might as well be choking it," Lantern spoke to him.

Booster didn't answer Lantern, but kept his eyes fixed on the floor as he continued to mop. "Booster, I believe that among humans it is common courtesy to respond when someone addresses you," Skeets informed his human partner.

"Yeah, what the robot said," Lantern added, cocking an eyebrow at Booster's unresponsiveness.

Still Booster did not speak…but as he raised the mop from the floor, he plunged it into the bucket with such violence that some of the bucket's water splashed upward and very nearly caught Lantern! "Hey! Watch it, man!" Lantern shouted, floating out of harm's way in time.

Then Booster spoke—and his voice was black with anger. "Why don't _you_ watch it, oh-so-mighty Green Lantern!" he yelled.

"Excuse me?" Lantern asked, narrowing his eyes as he slowly floated down to the ground.

"You think you're better than me, huh?" Booster demanded. "Oh, look, everyone, here's the world-famous defender of Planet Earth, the mighty and unstoppable Green Lantern! Well, guess what, man? I'm sick of everybody sticking me in your shadow, of you getting all the fame and the glory while I get sidelined!"

"Booster, perhaps you should calm down…" Skeets started.

"You stay out of this, Skeets!" Booster flung at the robot. "And anyway, since when did you start supporting him instead of me, huh?"

Lantern shook his head. "No wonder nobody takes you seriously…you're worse than a 5-year-old."

"Why, you—I'll show you!" Booster raged, lifting the mop above his head like a weapon. But as he struck forward with it, Lantern swiftly grabbed the mop handle and yanked it out of the other man's hands, at the same time thrusting one end of it to the floor and causing Booster to trip and fall on his face!

Momentarily dazed by his fall, Booster turned and glared angrily up at Lantern, who was looking coolly down at him even as he held the mop in one hand. "Okay, now I'm really surprised that anybody would mistake you for me," Lantern said thoughtfully. "There really is no comparison to be made."

Infuriated again, Booster started to get up…but Lantern thrust the business end of the mop into the other man's chest, pinning him to the ground. "Hey! Let me up!" Booster snapped.

"Man, this is embarrassing…I haven't even used my ring's power, and I still managed to beat you just now," Lantern remarked. "This is absolutely no contest, let me tell you that."

"Be quiet! I'm just as good as you are any day!" Booster flared.

Lantern sighed wearily. "Okay, Booster…you really want to prove yourself? Then how about accepting a little challenge…"

Some of Booster's belligerence died down at that. "A…challenge…?"

Lantern looked down levelly at him. "Once you've finished your chores around the Watchtower, come on down to the training room. We're going to have a little match, you and me…but there'll be a catch: neither one of us is going to use any superpowers. So, it's essentially going to be _mano a mano._ Think you're up to it?"

"Yeah!" Booster nodded enthusiastically.

"All right, then. I'll be waiting there for you." And with that, Lantern released his hold on the mop, causing the handle to narrowly miss Booster's face as it fell to the ground. Then he turned and walked off without so much as a backward glance.

Slowly Booster got up, rubbing his forehead and very mindful of the wet stain the mop had left on his shirt. Skeets hovered near him. "Booster, you do realize what you've just done, right?" it inquired. "You've just set yourself up for a confrontation you cannot win. Your chances against an experienced League member like the Green Lantern are—"

"Skeets, spare me the details, okay?" Booster snapped. "Look, all I have to do is finish up this cleaning-up job, then later I'll get a chance to prove myself to Green Lantern! I'm gonna show him he's not all that!"

So saying, he grabbed the mop and stood up, and began mopping again with furious determination. Skeets let off the equivalent of a sigh as it watched its master. "Very surprising how you can actually get something done when you've got the right motivation," it noted, in a tone low enough for Booster not to hear.

----------

_**Central City Police Department, 1:27 p.m.**_

Wally West was still in the CCPD's forensic lab, carefully adjusting the lens of his microscope as he looked hard at the metal piece that he'd received to examine earlier. His eyes narrowed bit by bit as he examined the metal. "Hmmm…"

Straightening up, he walked over to a nearby cabinet and opened its doors. Inside were numerous pieces of equipment: Bunsen burners, empty beakers, hot plates and other items. Reaching inside, he pulled out a rather small electric hot plate and a beaker, then walked back to his table. "Okay…time to see if what I'm thinking about you is true," he whispered as he set both items down.

Wally then leaned forward toward the microscope and, with one finger, carefully pushed the piece of metal into his open palm. Then, with care, he placed the metal into the beaker and then set the beaker itself on top of the hot plate. Having done that, he reached for the hot plate's electrical cord and plugged it into the nearby wall socket. Carefully, he adjusted the hot plate's heat level to as low as possible. "Okay…now it's up to Father Time to do the rest," he announced.

"To do the rest of what?" a voice behind him inquired.

Startled, Wally spun around. "Oh! Oh, uh…Officer Zolomon, you kinda scared me there."

Indeed, it was Zolomon standing there, leaning on his cane as he scrutinized Wally. "Made any headway so far?" he asked.

"Well, it's a little early to tell, but, uh…" Wally fingered his brow thoughtfully. "I _have_ come up with a little theory about this shard of metal, and right now I'm putting it to the test."

"And what would that be, exactly?" Zolomon asked.

"Well, here's my take on it," Wally explained. "Normally, every solid substance has at least some degree of friction…but the fact that this metal piece doesn't, tells me that there must be some kind of foreign agent on it that's making it slippery to grip."

"Like some kind of chemical or a special coating of some sort?" Zolomon suggested.

"Yeah, that's it," Wally nodded. "I saw something to that effect while I was examining it under the microscope, but I couldn't come up with anything concrete just by looking at it like that. So now, I'm going to try melting whatever could be on this metal on a low flame, and then afterwards I'll run the substance through our database and try to match it to any known chemical agents. Of course, all of that means it'll take a little while longer, so…sorry if you were hoping for a quick report."

"No, don't worry about it," Zolomon shook his head. "I can understand that you forensics guys take a decent amount of time to come up with your test results, after all."

"Yeah, that's true," Wally laughed. "But then again, sometimes our work tends to go a lot faster than even we expect. It all depends, you know."

Zolomon shrugged. "Well…since you just turned on the flame on that hot plate, how about grabbing a coffee with me? It shouldn't take longer than a few minutes…by which time the flame should've done most of its work, right?"

"Hmmm…" Wally cast a glance at the hot plate; not even steam was rising from the metal in the beaker. "Yeah, sure, why not? I could use a break, anyway."

"Then it's settled," Zolomon nodded. "Let's get a move-on, then."

"Right! Lead the way, Officer Zolomon!" Wally pointed his thumb toward the doorway.

"Hey, hey, please—we're both in the same overall profession, aren't we? It's not like I'm placing you under arrest or anything." Zolomon chuckled and extended a hand. "Call me Hunter."

"Wally." Wally extended his own hand and shook the profiler's.

"All right then, Wally." Hunter gave a little smile.

The two turned and walked toward the doorway. "So, how do you take your coffee?" Hunter asked.

Wally shrugged. "The way I always do—cream and thirty-seven sugars."

Hunter gave him an odd look. "Huh?"

"Hey—it's a joke!" Wally laughed, waving his hands in front of himself.

At that, Hunter broke into a somewhat embarrassed chuckle. "Oh…right. I guess I don't really have much of a sense of humor…"

"Hey, don't worry about it—you'll learn," Wally assured him. "Around here, when it comes to humor, I'm the one to be consulted!" And with that, the two of them went out the door together, Wally allowing Hunter to go first because of his cane.

_**CHAPTER 3 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 4 COMING UP!**_


	4. Chapter 4

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 04

**_Central City Police Department, 1:40 p.m._**

Moments later, Wally and Hunter were outside on the front steps leading to the door of the police department, leaning on the stone column and sipping from their plastic cups of coffee. "Hmmm…well, at least they try with the coffee," Hunter sighed as he took another sip.

"Yeah, they sure do," Wally nodded. "Personally, though, I prefer espressos—especially from this one little coffee shop that's just a few minutes away from here. Every day I'm coming to work, I usually make sure to pick up a cup from there."

"I see," said Hunter. "Well, why didn't you today?"

"I was running a little late," Wally shrugged.

"Oh." Hunter took another sip. "This coffee shop…is it really that good?"

"By far!" Wally answered eagerly. "You should try it sometime!"

Hunter frowned. "Well, I don't know…I don't really get out all that much because of my position as meta-human profiler, you know."

"Ah, well…maybe one of these days…" Wally paused and took a sip of his coffee; then he looked at Hunter. "Uh, you don't mind if I ask you something?"

"No, not at all. What is it?"

"Well…" Wally searched for a way to bring the question across. "When we were introduced back there in the lab…the way you were talking about the Justice League, you didn't come across as a supporter of theirs…"

Hunter cocked an eyebrow at him. "Does that offend you?"

"Ah—no. Well, not exactly. It's just that you're probably the first person I've ever met in all of Central City who probably didn't like them," Wally answered.

Hunter looked up at the sky. "Well, it's good you don't take offense—because I've no intention of apologizing for my point of view, now or later."

"I'm curious, though—why exactly would anybody _not_ like the League?" Wally persisted.

Hunter took a full gulp from his coffee cup this time before replying. "Justice League, costumed criminals, super-villains—it doesn't matter what side they claim to be on, they're all the same in my book. They're all nothing but a bunch of freaks that cause far more damage to society in the space of a few hours than regular humans could in the space of a few days."

Wally frowned. "Well, it's true that some meta-humans and costumed heroes or villains do tend to cause damage from time to time…but you at least have to admit, people like those in the Justice League are a really great asset to overall law enforcement…"

"You think so, do you?" Hunter asked him. "All right, then—let's take Central City's so-called 'protector,' the Flash, as a more specific example. Why should the people of this city be so naïve as to trust a guy like him?"

"What's not to trust?" Wally countered, now very aware that he was subtly defending his own superhero activities against the other cop's argument. "I mean, the guy's done so much for Central City, hasn't he? Why shouldn't he be believed in?"

Hunter looked squarely at him. "He wears a mask. If he's really so trustworthy, what's he hiding his face from everyone else for?"

"Uh…maybe to hide his identity from criminals who might use it against him?" Wally said warily.

"Or, maybe he himself is a criminal on the sly and is doing an exceptionally good job of hiding it from the public," Hunter countered. "And anyhow, if he really wants to do a cop's job, he should do it with a badge—not a lame costume like what he's got!"

Wally's eyebrow twitched—but before he could respond, the doors opened, and out walked Officers Chyre and Morillo. "Well, well, Zolomon, so this is where you were all along!" Morillo cheerfully remarked. "How could you go for coffee and not invite us?"

"Hey there, kid," Chyre greeted Wally. "Any luck on that analysis yet?"

"Nope," Wally answered. "But I'll be heading back into the lab in a few minutes to continue working on it."

"Okay, then, you do that," Morillo nodded.

Suddenly, the walkie-talkie on Chyrie's belt let off a loud static noise. Then: "All available units, we've just received reports of super-criminal activity in Central City's south perimeter. All available units, mobilize at once!"

With a growl, Chyre pulled his walkie-talkie from his belt and answered it. "This is Chyre from the Meta-human Crimes Division…Dispatch, can we get a confirmation of the super-criminals' identities? Over."

"Only one has been confirmed at this point—Cobalt Blue," the dispatcher replied.

"Cobalt Blue? I thought that guy was locked up!" Wally exclaimed.

"Hmph…apparently, not securely enough," Chyre growled. "Roger that, Dispatch. We're on it."

"Guess I better get back inside and start digging up the information I've compiled on Cobalt Blue," Hunter grunted. "I'll relay it to you guys once I've got it all together."

"Right, then!" said Morillo. "Okay, Chyre, let's go!"

Chyre and Morillo promptly ran down the steps toward a parked and waiting squad car, while Hunter grabbed his cane and limped back into the department's doors. This left Wally relatively alone—and just in time, too, as he suddenly felt a buzz in his ear. Reaching up, he touched a small button on the comm.-link that was concealed in his ear. "Flash here. Go ahead."

"Flash, I'm detecting meta-human activity on the south side of Central City," Mr. Terrific's voice came through. "It could be trouble—could you go check it out?"

"Already on my way," said Wally. "First things first, though…"

Glancing around, he turned and ran back into the department—at normal speed—and hurried toward the forensic lab. Entering the lab, he went over to the hot plate he'd left with the beaker containing the mysterious piece of metal. Examining it, he was satisfied to see that the hot plate's heat level hadn't changed from what he'd set it to be. "Okay, then…no change…" he muttered as he examined the metal piece. "All right—I'll be back in a jiffy!"

He stood up and glanced around the lab. Satisfied that nobody else was in view, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring, slipping it onto his finger. Then, holding his ring-hand out, he used a fingertip to touch a button on the top of the ring—and a moment later, out sprung his Flash costume! In a second, he dashed into it…then, a few seconds after that, he swooshed through the lab door, through the department corridor and out the front door, and in a moment he was running off down the street.

----------

**_Central City Channel 4 News, 1:44 p.m., at that moment_**

"Linda! Linda! Geez, where is that girl…? LINDA!"

Marla burst into Linda's office, where the reporter was at her desk picking up her purse. "You know, I could hear you coming from a mile away," Linda remarked, shaking her head. "What is it?"

"What is it? What is it, she asks?" Marla sounded exasperated. "Super-criminal activity on Central City's south side, that's what! It's all over the police scanner!"

"Already beat you to that," Linda smiled. "The station manager just phoned me here in the office and told me to go catch up on this story. I was just about to come looking for you."

"Then what're we waiting for? Let's get going, already!" Marla urged. "The crew's outside waiting on us!"

"Fine, fine, let's go," said Linda, slinging her purse over her shoulder.

The two women hurried to the news stations front door and headed outside, where their Channel 4 news-van was already waiting for them. "C'mon, ladies, before any other station gets the scoop!" the driver yelled impatiently.

"All right, here we are now," Linda replied as she and Marla climbed into the van. Then the door was slammed shut, and the van's tires squealed on the pavement as they raced off.

----------

_**Central City's South Side, 1:45 p.m., a moment later**_

Numerous screaming civilians were running as hard as they could to get away from the chaos that was erupting further down the street. All around them, balls of mysterious blue flame were thrown here and there, exploding on contact with whatever they hit and spreading very quickly! And…walking forward at a slow and steady pace in spite of the flames were three sinister-looking characters.

"Heh…look at all the little piggies run," one of the trio chuckled in a heavy, grating voice, even as he looked at the people fleeing in panic. He was extremely tall, with what appeared to be rust-colored steel covering his face, arms and entire upper body, and clad in dark green pants and combat boots. "Now how about actually hitting one of 'em, sapphire-boy?"

This query was addressed to the second person, a blond-haired man dressed in white and blue, with a shining blue gem embedded into his vest's chest. "Sure, Girder, I could do that," he answered, "but then what fun would that be? The game would be over long before I got any excitement out of it."

"Cobalt Blue's right, Girder," said the third assailant, a slender woman with purple hair, dressed in a silver and purple costume complete with a cape and a face-mask. "I didn't break out of jail to swiftly exhaust my fun—I intend to savor it bit by bit!"

So saying, she turned her head to glance at a nearby metal lamppost, and extended her hand toward it. Suddenly, as if by some invisible force, the lamppost was twisted out of its place in the ground and ended up hovering in the air in front of them! "Not bad magnetic control there, Magenta," Cobalt Blue remarked to the woman. "But now what are you going to do?"

"Watch," said Magenta. "Girder…you ever play baseball?"

A grin appeared on Girder's metallic features. "Ha! I lettered in high school baseball!" he boasted.

"Then let's see how much of a hitter you were," and Magenta levitated the lamppost into Girder's hand. "Batter to the plate!"

Girder swiftly readied himself, easily holding the heavy lamppost as he would a bat. Magenta then turned her hands toward a nearby parked car. "Now…batter up!" she cried as she used her power to suddenly yank the car from its parked placed on the street, sending it flying toward the steel giant.

His grip tightening on the lamppost, Girder braced himself as the car flew toward him. Then, with a mighty yell, he swung forward—and there was a sickening _crunch _of metal as the lamppost connected with the side of the car, making a very prominent dent in the vehicle even as it was sent flying upwards!

"Hey, not too shabby," Cobalt Blue laughed as he watched the flying car. "But look at this!"

He held up his hand, and the gem on his chest glowed brightly—then a moment later a bright blue ball of fire emerged in his palm. Pulling his arm back, he flung the fireball with tremendous strength, and it flew toward the now-rapidly descending car, slamming into it and causing it to explode in a mix of orange and blue flame! "And you're out!" he said laughingly.

"Y-y-you just got lucky, that's all!" Girder shouted, very much annoyed that his "baseball" had been blown up in such a manner. "Two out of three!"

"Now, now, let's not fight," Cobalt Blue said soothingly. "This DOES bring a nice little idea for fun to mind. Let's see how many times we can keep hitting cars and blowing them up in midair before one of us misses."

"I don't mind at all," Magenta answered. "Girder—ready yourself!" And she swiftly levitated another car.

----------

A little distance away, several police squad cars were zooming toward the assaulted area. Riding alongside the squad, in their own car, were Chyre and Morillo. "Dispatch, any confirmed word on the identity of the super-criminals yet?" Chyre was speaking into his walkie-talkie.

"Affirmative, Officer Chyre," the dispatcher's voice came through. "We just got a fresh report. Seems there are two other meta-humans alongside Cobalt Blue—Girder and Magenta."

"What? Aw, man…this just makes things more difficult," Morillo groaned. "Well, fine—I'll radio Zolomon and relay the info right now."

He immediately pulled out his own walkie-talkie and patched into the needed frequency. "Zolomon, this is Morillo here. Do you copy? Over."

"Zolomon here," the other cop's voice came through. "Have you guys gotten there yet?"

"Almost," Morillo told him. "But we have a problem. Apparently, Cobalt Blue's rolling with Girder and Magenta this time around. We're gonna need their info, pronto."

"No problem—I'm actually holding them in my hands right now," Zolomon replied. "Which one you want first?"

"Whichever one of them's most likely to be the ringleader," said Morillo.

"Hmmm…that would probably be Cobalt Blue," Zolomon said after a moment. "His real name's Malcom Thawne…he was a con artist who got his hands on a supposedly mystical sapphire on one of his capers. It gives him the power to create blue flame and also to temporarily steal the energy of any opponent. That's made him quite an important member of the super-criminal element here in Central City. Grew up in a family of con artists…sneaky, egotistical, but also pretty level-headed and practical. He'll be likely to have a plan for every situation…and definitely a sadist when he's in the mood."

"Uh-huh," grunted Chyre, listening in on the discussion.

A moment's pause later, Zolomon's voice came back on Morillo's walkie-talkie again. "Next one is Magenta…real name Frances Kane, has the power of magnetism. Grew up in a broken home, and as a child she was involved in a car crash that killed her father and brother. She was bullied and harassed by her mother most of her life for being 'possessed.' Simply put, she's a sociopath."

"Troublesome," Morillo muttered.

"And then there's Girder," Zolomon finished. "Tony Woodward, former steelworker for Central City Construction…got thrown into metal scraps from STAR labs during a riot at the site, and was turned into a walking steel plate. Vicious, easily angered, unable to be reasoned with unless you can offer him something he especially wants."

Chyre scowled. "We're gonna need a lot of heavy-duty tools for this…three major super-criminals in one day…"

Suddenly, from behind them came a swooshing sound—then a streak of red flashed beside their car. "Hey, guys!" Flash greeted them with a wave of his hand.

"Flash! I'm surprised to see you here!" Morillo exclaimed. "I would've expected you to be where those meta-humans are already!"

"Well, I would've been there the moment I got the word, but I didn't want to run the risk of running into a trap and then you guys coming too late to bail me out," Flash explained. "And, besides, even I have to obey speed limits in Central City, you know."

"In any case, you're here now and that's what's important," Chyre answered. "Now those guys'll be taken out real quick!"

"Hey, good one!" Flash grinned. "I'm going on ahead!" And he kicked up his speed a notch, leaving the police cars behind.

----------

"Here's one more coming!" Magenta used her magnetic power to levitate another car.

"Bring it on!" Girder replied, readying himself with the lamppost again.

Suddenly, as he readied his fireball, Cobalt Blue glanced up. "Oh, looky here—we've got company."

A short distance away, coming toward them was a red blur. "Oh, look, Flash has come to play," Magenta cooed. "Well, let's see if he's a good catcher! Batter up, Girder!"

She brought the car hurtling toward Girder, who promptly whacked it with the lamppost and sent it flying! "Okay…now…" Cobalt Blue readied two blue fireballs in his hands.

Closing in on them, Flash glanced up in time to see the car flying towards him. "Whoa!" he exclaimed, dodging out of the way in time even as the vehicle landed hard on the ground. "Man, that might've flattened me if I hadn't—"

Suddenly he caught sight of a massive blue burst of fire coming straight for him! "Oh, man!" he cried out as he swiftly ran to one side to avoid the blast. "Hey, you could hurt somebody with that!"

"That's the idea!" Cobalt Blue shouted, and promptly blasted another wave of blue fire at Flash. But the Scarlet Speedster again dodged the assault, still charging toward the trio.

"Oh, no, you don't!" Girder bellowed, raising the now-battered lamppost above his head. He brought it down on the ground with a loud WHAM—and just like that, a great shockwave ripped through the pavement, uplifting the gravel and jarring Flash's footing in the process! The speedster tripped and fell forward, skidding along the ground for several feet!

"Ow…that hurt…" Flash groaned, clutching his shoulder where he'd fallen.

"Aww, did the little klutz give himself a boo-boo?" a voice right above him asked tauntingly.

Looking up, Flash found himself staring into Cobalt Blue's face. The villain, at that moment, reached down and grabbed the speedster by the neck, holding him up in the air with one hand. "Ha, ha, ha…I never get tired of doing this whenever you and I fight," he sneered. "Now…time to juice myself up a little…!"

Cobalt Blue's gem shone brightly…and suddenly a surge of blue flame traveled rapidly up his arm and coursed around Flash! "Ungh!" the hero grimaced in pain as the flame's heat overtook him, and he inadvertently grabbed Cobalt Blue's wrist, frantically trying to wrench the other man's grip off his neck.

"Now…I'm going to drain you dry, Flash…your energy, your powers…now they'll belong to me!" Cobalt Blue laughed triumphantly, even as the flame began to burn a brighter shade of blue.

All at once the loud noise of sirens caught their attention. "Police! Freeze!" several officers called out as guns were cocked.

Looking up, the trio beheld a number of police cars having congregated several hundred feet ahead of them, with a few more driving up. Those cops that were here already had their guns drawn and pointed at the villains. "Drop him now and surrender, or we open fire!" one cop shouted at them.

"Sure. Go ahead. Open fire." Cobalt Blue smirked. "And if you do that, what're the chances you'll hit Flash instead of us, morons?"

At that several of the officers hesitated, a few of them even lowering their firearms. Instantly Magenta raised her hand—and the next thing the cops knew, all their guns were being forcibly yanked from their hands and were levitating rapidly toward the villains! "Didn't your parents ever tell you not to play with guns, kids?" Magenta asked, wagging her finger in a scolding no-no gesture.

Suddenly she narrowed her eyes and did a twirling motion with her finger—and all the levitating guns immediately spun around, their muzzles pointing in the cops' direction! "Take cover! Take cover!" several of them called out in a panic, scrambling even as Magenta held her hand in a gun-holding position and pulled her "trigger"—and began spraying the entire area with bullets!

All this time Cobalt Blue's flame was still coursing around Flash's body…by now, though, the speedster's grip on the criminal's wrist had loosened, and indeed his hands had fallen to his sides. "Heh…yes, today is such a fun day, isn't it, guys?" Cobalt Blue snickered.

"Well, _you_ guys are having all the fun as far as I know," Girder said with disapproval.

"Hmmm, that's true, too," Cobalt Blue said thoughtfully. "Okay, tell you what—why not MAKE those cops run for cover and see how many of them can dodge Magenta's line of fire? Try throwing something at them."

"All right!" Girder promptly bend down and—literally—tore huge chunks of gravel out of the ground with both hands. Then he hefted them over his shoulders, one after the other, and flung them at the squad cars! "Incoming, suckers!" he shouted.

Panicking as they saw the flying rock missiles coming in their direction, several officers turned and hastily ran away just as the rocks crashed down on their cars! In the process, Magenta continued using her magnetic power to fire the cops' own guns at them, shooting rather wildly, too. "So much fun, so much fun, so much fun to shoot at random," she hummed with a grin on her face.

----------

On a separate side-street not very far away, the Channel 4 news van pulled up. "Sounds like there's a lot of commotion going on," the driver remarked. "Sorry, but this is as far as the van can go."

"Fine, we'll foot it, then," Linda answered him. "Come on, Marla, let's do this!"

The two women immediately jumped out of the van, Linda clutching her microphone, Marla with her video-camera on her shoulder. They ran along the side-street, coming closer and closer to the sound of battle. "Could get a little dirty here, Linda…let's be careful," Marla advised, her grip tightening on the camera.

"Since when does our job ever allow us that luxury?" Linda snorted.

At length they emerged from the side-street—and beheld the large line of cops scattering for cover as the two rocks Girder had thrown slammed against their cars. Instinctively both women turned and ran back into the alleyway from whence they'd come, then cautiously peeked out at the chaos. "Marla, you getting all this?" Linda asked, watching what was happening in awe.

"Of course! What do you take me for?" Marla replied, carefully recording everything that was happening.

Further up the street, they could see the massive Girder, clanking his metal fists together. They saw Magenta, levitating the cops' guns with her magnetism. And they saw Cobalt Blue…holding Flash by the neck and seemingly burning him with blue flame! "Oh, dear…this is going to be a little complicated…" Linda whispered almost to herself, watching the whole thing anxiously.

**_CHAPTER 4 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 5 COMING UP!_**

(NOTE TO BE MADE: In the comics, Malcom Thawne, a.k.a. Cobalt Blue, was the long-lost twin brother of Barry Allen, separated at birth. His foster parents, con artists, had a mystic blue flame that could steal anything their hearts desired. He eventually encased the flame in a blue gem, took the name Cobalt Blue, and set out to take everything from Barry Allen that he felt HE should have gotten. Here, though, for the sake of tying this fanfic in with DCAU continuity, I have scrapped that part of Cobalt Blue's background and instead made him a random criminal who happens to be darn powerful and darn cool!)


	5. Chapter 5

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 05

_**Central City's South Side, 1:58 p.m.**_

The blue flame around Flash's body slowly died down, and Cobalt Blue promptly flung him to the ground. Cobalt Blue then glanced at his hand, noting that it seemed to vibrate at super-speed. "Ha! I've absorbed Flash's powers—now watch me put them to good use!" he sneered.

"But what about Flash?" Girder wondered.

A cruel glint appeared in Cobalt Blue's eyes. "How about…I let you handle him, big guy?"

At that a grin appeared over Girder's mouth. "Now, _that_ I can do!" he chuckled, and with that he stepped forward and bent down to pick up the helpless speedster—

—but then all of a sudden a loud _swooshing_ noise could be heard above, causing all of them to glance upward. "What the—" Girder started, seconds before a red-and-blue blur slammed into him, knocking him several feet backwards!

"Ouch…" Magenta winced at the sound of the collision.

Cobalt Blue, however, was much more concerned with what had struck Girder. "…oh, nuts…"

Floating there before the villains was a figure they recognized all too well. Blue suit…red cape…big "S" on the chest…and an authoritarian frown. "Superman! What're _you_ doing here?" Cobalt Blue demanded.

Superman shrugged. "I was just passing by." Then suddenly his eyes glowed red—and a beam of his heat vision shot out, completely melting the guns that Magenta was magnetically levitating in midair!

Flash looked up weakly. "…big guy…" he managed to whisper before his head sagged back to the ground.

A second later Superman was at his side, having flown toward him at super-speed. "Easy there, Flash. What happened?"

"Cobalt…Blue…drained my speed…" Flash mustered the energy to say—then he blacked out.

"It's true, boy scout," Cobalt Blue addressed Superman. "And not only have I made him the slowest man alive, I've drained part of his overall energy too, to augment my own power. Allow me to show you!"

Suddenly—he was gone! "Huh?" Superman exclaimed, looking around wildly—but then a blue blur appeared in front of him and hit him with a flame-powered punch that sent him flying into one of the nearby police cruisers, denting the side of it in the process!

"I told you, didn't I?" Cobalt Blue laughed and held up his fist in victory. "I drained Flash of his speed—and now I can harness that speed for myself! Combined with my gem's natural fire power, not even you will stand a chance against me!"

Pulling himself out of the wrecked cruiser, Superman brushed himself off. "You're a bit of a braggart, now aren't you…?"

"Superman, look out!" one of the cops shouted to him.

Turning, puzzled, Superman suddenly saw the same cruiser he'd been sent flying into—coming into pieces and wrapping around him! "What the…!" was all he could manage as scrap parts from the car entangled his limbs and tightly wrapped around his neck. Then the next thing he knew, he was being levitated into the air!

"Think that's impressive?" Magenta remarked. "Then how about this?"

To everyone else's amazement, two other police cars were swiftly levitated and slammed into the one binding Superman, enclosing him even further! "Now…how much longer can you last before I crush you into a pulp?" Magenta challenged. And she held out a hand and slowly closed it into a fist; the levitated cars, in response, began to be slowly crushed inwards.

Girder, by this time, was recovering from when Superman had collided into him and was now walking back toward the others. "Man, that hurt…" he winced and held his chest where he'd been rammed.

"Good to see you back here again, Girder," Cobalt Blue greeted him.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Girder grunted. "Can I kill the Flash now?"

"Sure thing! But first…" Immediately Cobalt Blue disappeared in a blue blur again, this time running toward the cops.

"He's coming this way—look out!" one officer yelled, moments before Cobalt Blue rammed into him and knocked him down. In the space of a few more seconds, the villain was tackling and knocking out other cops at super-speed, running amongst them like blue lightning…and a moment later, all of them were down.

"Ha, ha! How rich! Cops down, Flash down, even Superman down—what's this now?" Cobalt Blue suddenly cocked his head to one side. "Hmm…" He dashed off at super-speed again.

At that moment, Girder was holding the weakened and unconscious Flash over his head. "All right, speedy-boy—time to break you like a twig!" he growled.

"Hold on, hold on, Girder," Cobalt Blue's voice suddenly called to him. "We've got something extremely valuable here, now—behold!"

Then, a moment later, Cobalt Blue emerged from a nearby alley—and he was dragging along a young woman holding a microphone, and another woman with a video-camera. "Seems we've been caught live on TV all this time, guys!" he announced.

Magenta's eyes brightened up at this new sight. "I know that girl you've got there—she's that reporter from Channel 4, Linda Park! She's the one that covered the Flash Museum, that time!"

A leer came into Cobalt Blue's eyes. "Is that right…? Well, then little lady…" speaking to Linda. "This is quite your lucky day, isn't it now?"

Frightened indeed, Linda appealed to her camerawoman. "Marla, a little help here…?"

"What're you asking ME for? I'm just the cameraperson!" Marla exclaimed.

"Freeze right there, Thawne!"

The sound of guns cocking caught Cobalt Blue's attention. "Huh?" He turned…and saw two cops with guns in hand. "Whoops…Magenta, looks like we missed a couple of them, now didn't we?"

It was Officers Chyre and Morillo, their guns pointed at the villains. "We kept ourselves hidden long enough, while you punks were carrying on," Chyre said in a gruff tone. "Let those hostages go, Thawne!"

"Or what? You'll _shoot_ me?" Cobalt Blue asked derisively.

"Don't push your luck…" Morillo said ominously, his gun aimed in Magenta and Girder's direction.

"Please! You don't think I can use my powers to stop your bullets before they even touch me?" Magenta retorted.

"And I'm made of steel—you might as well shoot me with paper wads, retards!" Girder taunted the officers.

"And as for me, surely you would've seen that I used MY powers to steal Flash's speed from him a while ago," Cobalt Blue added. "Which means I can do one of three things: I can simply dodge your bullets should you choose to fire, or I can run over to you right now and disarm you before you can even blink…or better yet…" He grinned. "I can LET you shoot at me, but then I'll use these two ladies here as human shields at the last second just for the fun of it. And you wouldn't want _that_ on your track records or your consciences…would you?" And he shook Linda and Marla in a threatening manner.

Flash, still held over Girder's head, opened his eyes at that moment, wide enough to see the situation at present. "…no…"

"Hmmm?" Girder looked up at him. "Yo! Sounds like our pal here's back to his senses!"

"Oh…oh, well. At least if he's conscious, he'll be able to feel the pain when you break him apart." Cobalt Blue nodded. "Now, then, Girder—do it!"

"Gotcha!" And Girder held Flash high over his head, intending to smash the speedster's back on his knee…

…but suddenly a surge of electricity flashed across Girder's hands! "YEOUCH!" he yelped, dropping Flash and clutching his suddenly-numbed fingers.

"What?" Magenta looked on in surprise.

Slowly, Flash stood up from where he'd been dropped. To the astonishment of all bearing witness, electric energy was crackling all across his body! "No…nobody's going to die here…" he said in a low tone. "I'm gonna stop you guys…if it's the last thing I do!"

Suddenly—in a flash of red, he was gone! "No way—" Magenta started to say, but then she felt something slam into her so hard she flew backwards; her mental concentration was broken in that moment, and the metal shell trapping Superman fell to the ground with a crash!

Cobalt Blue's eyes widened in shock at this phenomenon. "This can't be—" he started—mere seconds before the red blur bulldozed into his back, sending him flying over one of the still-intact police cars to land heavily on the ground. But in a moment he was back up, disbelief written all over his face. "This isn't possible! I took away all of your super-speed—how can you be running so fast?"

Meanwhile, still running inhumanly fast, Flash dashed over to the crushed police cars where Superman was trapped within. Vibrating his hands extremely rapidly, he began to strip the metal apart, in a bid to free his comrade. "Hang on, Supes!" he yelled as he tore away at the metal.

"Marla…please tell me you're getting all this…" Linda said slowly, having recovered her own wits.

"Are you kidding? This is Pulitzer Prize material here!" Marla said gleefully, her camera aimed at Flash.

Chyre and Morillo were watching Flash's movements with wide eyes. "I don't think I've _ever_ seen him go THAT fast!" Chyre remarked.

At length the metallic shell was torn wide open, and Superman slumped out, gasping audibly. "Ugh…"

But even then Flash didn't stop—he rushed back over to a still-astonished Cobalt Blue, slamming a fist into the villain's face and knocking him flat. In the same second, he swiftly dashed over to Magenta, who was just now getting up from where he'd knocked her down, and swung his elbow hard into the back of her head, effectively knocking her unconscious. Then, one second later, he raced over to where Girder had just stopped rubbing his fingers from the electric shock he'd gotten—and as his entire arm vibrated till it was barely visible, he slammed a fist straight through Girder's gut!

Girder cringed and doubled over as he felt Flash's pulsating fist in his stomach. "Ugh…aaaagh…!" he groaned out…moments before his entire midsection exploded in a shower of metal and electric static, flinging both men backwards and apart from each other.

Linda and Marla watched, wide-eyed, as Flash landed hard on the ground, electric energy crackling around him. "Whoa…" Marla whispered, managing to maintain a grip on her videocamera.

Having recovered somewhat, Superman looked up at Flash as the scarlet hero slowly got to his hands and knees. Worriedly, the Man of Steel stood up and started to walk toward his comrade. "Flash…?" he asked warily, reaching out a hand.

"NO!" Flash thrust an open palm toward a surprised Superman. "Don't…!"

Morillo and Chyre, also making their way forward, stopped when Flash yelled out. Linda and Marla involuntarily stepped back at the shout—they'd never heard him use such a tone of voice. Superman retracted his hand that he'd been stretching forward, blinking as he watched to see what Flash would do next.

And even as the electrical energy continued to crackle around him, Flash shut his eyes tightly and breathed deeply, bracing himself with his hands against the ground. His fingers tensed against the gravel; slowly they curved into fists. And…little by little, the static aura slowly vanished and his breathing became more regular. Gingerly, still with eyes closed, he eased himself up on his feet, carefully standing and flexing his fingers.

"Flash…you all right?" Superman asked.

Flash nodded. "Yeah…yeah."

"Well…uh…" Morillo rubbed the back of his neck, unsure what he should say. "Anything we can do, Flash? You need help or anything?"

"Actually…you guys can take it from here. These guys shouldn't be too much bother now." Flash looked at the fallen villains one by one.

Linda walked up to him. "Flash…you actually took them down in the space of a couple of seconds," she pointed out. "And especially Girder…" Here she looked in the direction of the iron giant, where smoke could be seen rising from his stomach. "How'd you do all of that—and especially since Cobalt Blue said he stole your speed?"

At that Flash put a hand over his face. "I…I'm not really sure…"

Linda noticed then that he seemed discomfited about the issue. "Well, uh…however you did what you just did, you saved all of us here," she remarked, changing the topic. "Thank you."

"Yeah…" Flash nodded, more evidently weary now.

"You sure you're okay? Especially since that Cobalt Blue _did_ drain you of your speed," Superman told him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"It's…it's nothing," Flash answered. "I've had to contend with Cobalt Blue stealing my speed before. The effect isn't permanent, and for that I can count my lucky stars."

"All of us can, I'm sure," Chyre spoke up. "Well, Morillo, guess we'd better get to work and get these criminals ready to be taken away, huh?"

All at once a loud series of groans came from behind them. Turning, the group saw the police officers Cobalt Blue had knocked down earlier, all getting up one by one and rubbing various parts of themselves where they'd been struck. "Heh…too bad these guys missed the last part of the action, huh?" Morillo chuckled. "Well, anyway, let's radio it in."

"Right." Chyre pulled out his walkie-talkie. "Dispatch, this is Officer Chyre. The three meta-human criminals have been stopped…requesting transport to take the three of them away."

"Roger that, Officer Chyre," the dispatcher's voice replied. "Transport is on its way."

Meanwhile, Flash put his hand to his comm.-link. "Watchtower…pick me up, please…"

"Actually, make that two for pick-up," Superman interjected, his hand at his own comm.-link.

The next thing the others knew, both heroes vanished in a blur of white light. "Geez…" Linda sighed. "And I could've gotten SUCH an exclusive interview…oh, well…"

----------

**_Justice League Watchtower, orbiting Planet Earth, 2:13 p.m. Earth Time, moments later_**

"Stand by to receive two for teleport…and…"

Mr. Terrific looked at the teleporters expectantly—and just on cue, two bright beams of light materialized Superman and Flash into existence on the Watchtower. "Oh…hey there, Terrific," Flash waved a hand at the administrator.

"You all right, Flash? You don't look so good," Mr. Terrific remarked.

"He just had a pretty rough battle; he needs a little time to rest, that's all," Superman spoke up.

"Yeah, I saw the whole thing on the screen," said Mr. Terrific. "You don't wanna know how many times I came close to calling in backup just now—those super-criminals were really doing a number on him."

"Hey, no biggie—it's all well and good now," Flash answered, stepping off his teleporter and walking to one side.

Eyes narrowing a little, Superman followed after Flash. "Wally…"

"Yeah, what?" Flash turned to look at him.

"Listen…I'm a little worried about you," Superman said slowly, carefully. "The moment I saw all that electric energy around you back there—you remember what nearly happened, that time when you took on Brainiac and Lex Luthor? You almost disappeared…"

"That was years ago," Flash answered.

"But what happened to you then nearly happened again today, didn't it?" Superman pressed. "You were completely drained of your power one minute, then the next you were dashing about like nobody's business."

"It all worked out, didn't it?" Flash shrugged.

"Yes, it did—but what if you're put in a similar situation next time around? What then?" Superman asked. "Look, I think maybe you should have the medics examine you, just to make sure nothing's wrong. I mean, it looked to me like you were fighting just to not vanish into thin air again…and now you look all exhausted, more so than even this battle just now would've left you."

"Hey, c'mon, you gotta look at the other variables first, you know," Flash countered. "I was about to die, other people's lives were in danger, and then I just so happened to tap into a little reserve speed energy that I never thought I had…"

"FLASH." Superman's voice held no room for contradiction.

Flash waved his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, okay. I'll go to the medics…soon as I come back from work! I nearly forgot, I have to be back there right now!"

He turned and ran for the teleporters—at normal speed. "You don't seem to be in that much of a hurry if you're not going at super-speed," Superman noted.

"Hey, I'm just pacing myself," Flash argued as he stepped onto a teleporter. "I just got my speed back, after all. Gotta give the body a chance to adjust, you know." Then he looked up at Mr. Terrific, still at the controls. "Hey, quick transport to the Central City P.D., would ya?"

"Yeah, sure thing," Mr. Terrific nodded. He then touched a few buttons on the console—and Flash vanished in a beam of light.

Superman now had a grim expression as he watched Flash's departure. "Hmmm…"

"Hey, Superman…something up?" Mr. Terrific regarded him. "What was that all about?"

"Ah…no, it's nothing." Superman then turned and walked off in another direction, leaving Mr. Terrific with a questioning look on his face.

----------

_**Central City Police Department, 2:15 p.m., at that moment**_

A bright beam of light materialized around the side of the CCPD building…and then a moment later Flash emerged in full, the teleportation a success. "Okay…gotta get back inside, quick…" He looked at his hands with a worried expression. "Question is, can I afford to go super-speed right now…especially after what happened a while ago…?"

Momentarily focusing himself, he set an intent gaze on his hands…and he began to vibrate them rapidly. He watched for a moment, looking for any abnormality that might arise from the use of his super-speed, but then a minute later he ceased the vibration and his hands were back to normal. "Okay…nothing out of the ordinary there," he sighed in relief. "Guess I can risk it now…"

He took a deep breath—and zipped into the police station, past the front desk and toward the restroom near the lab. Entering rapidly, a few seconds later he re-emerged sans his costume and clad in Wally West's work attire once again. "Safe!" he exhaled loudly.

"Wally! There you are! Where have you been?"

Paling, Wally turned to see his supervisor coming up the corridor toward him; a peevish expression was on the other man's face. "How could you do that, Wally—leaving that piece of evidence on the hot plate unattended?" the supervisor scolded him.

"Ah…sorry about that, boss," Wally apologized, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. "I kinda had to _go,_ and I couldn't find anybody to take over for me in time…"

The supervisor shook his head. "Well, luckily for you, I just managed to remove that beaker you put the metal piece in from the hot plate before anything else could happen," he informed Wally. "But it's what's happened to the metal piece itself that's caught my attention. If you don't have any other, ahem, BUSINESS to attend to, come with me and I'll show you."

Puzzled, Wally followed the older man back into the lab. At the workstation where Wally had left his equipment earlier, now the hot plate was plugged out and the beaker was placed well to one side. "So, what exactly happened?" Wally asked.

"Take a look for yourself," the supervisor invited.

Wally looked into the beaker—and his eyes widened. The metal seemed to be…for lack of a better term, sweating! "What the heck? What's going on here?" he asked, bewildered. "Was the metal melting or something? The hot plate's flame shouldn't have been THAT high!"

"It wasn't," the supervisor told him. "As you know, metals can only be affected by heat at certain high temperatures, and the hot plate's heat wasn't strong enough to melt the metal itself. But…it would seem that the metal was coated with something else…some sort of substance that melted itself off after this prolonged exposure to heat."

"Okay…" Wally cocked an eyebrow. "Any idea what kind of substance that could be?"

"Probably a chemical of some kind," the supervisor suggested. "But exactly _what_ the substance is…that's what I'm going to have you find out. It's the least you can do after leaving your work unattended like you've done. Really, Wally, I would've expected much more from you than this."

"I'm sorry, really," Wally answered. "It won't happen again, I promise."

"See that it doesn't," the supervisor advised him. "Let me know as soon as you're through."

With that, the supervisor turned and walked away. Wally let out a groan and rubbed his forehead. "Man, what a way to mess up…oh, well, let's see if I can't identify what this stuff is, then." And he looked at the strange material on the metal piece in the beaker.

**_CHAPTER 5 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 6 COMING UP!_**


	6. Chapter 6

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 06

**_Central City Police Department, 2:30 p.m._**

Wally was now seated back at his workstation, the metal piece on a glass plate in front of him. Gingerly holding a knife in one gloved hand, he used the blunt side to scrape at the metal's surface, effectively wiping off the mysterious substance that had been coating it. He then wiped the knife on the edge of a Petri dish a little ways away from the glass plate; in the Petri dish was residue from the coating he'd managed to scrape off over the last few minutes.

But while his hands and eyes worked, purely through force of habit and instinct, his mind was elsewhere completely. _Oh, man…it almost happened again…like it did four years ago…_

It was four years ago, as he recalled. Four years ago…when he'd first experienced it…

----------

_Battered and bruised, his costume torn in several places, Flash was standing amid a scene of intense destruction and chaos. Standing before him was Lex Luthor, Superman's businessman enemy, now fused together with the Kryptonian supercomputer Brainiac in golden body armor, looking very tall and menacing at that moment._

"_Are you going to fight me, BOY?" Luthor-Brainiac asked, speaking the last word with derision._

_And then Flash turned and ran away from the fused villain. Ran as fast as he was capable of running, as far as he could get. Only thing was…he wasn't running away for the sake of retreat._

_Then the next thing he knew…Japan—Thailand—England—all those places seemed to pass by him in the blink of an eye. And he saw Luthor-Brainiac looking up in his direction, confusion suddenly evident on his face, right before the speedster rammed into him. But Flash didn't stop or even slow down then…he continued running along the same path, coming right back all the way around and slamming into Luthor-Brainiac again._

_And it was after this second time…that was when he saw it, although he barely registered it in his mind. His body seemed to be…charging up with electricity. Even at his fastest in times past, that had never happened before. He couldn't explain what was going on…perhaps it was the extra effort he was putting in to this desperate attempt to bring down Luthor-Brainiac, he didn't know…but whatever it was, it was making him far faster than he could ever remember going._

_And as he continued to run, he now only subconsciously realized that he was moving so rapidly, in some places he ran past he tore up the pavement and knocked cars off the ground with the impact of the resulting sonic boom, and in others he literally ripped through the water as he raced across the ocean. And then…even when everything slowed to a complete stop around him, he was still moving ever faster, fast enough to be able to race around the entire planet several times in the space of one second and mow over Luthor-Brainiac at each pass…_

----------

Wally closed his eyes and sighed at the memory. _And now it's happening again…but…what if what happened last time happens once more and I…disappear completely…?_

"I was told you were still here."

Startled a bit, Wally turned to see Hunter coming towards him. "Oh, Hunter. Kinda startled me a bit there; I was concentrating on this."

"Yes, I can see that," said Hunter. "Any headway?"

"Well, at least we've been able to figure out why the piece of metal was frictionless before," Wally answered. "It was coated in some kind of gooey material—at least, it became gooey after it was exposed to heat for a little period of time."

Hunter frowned as he looked over Wally's shoulder at the stuff in the Petri dish. "Think you'll be able to identify what it is?"

"Maybe," Wally nodded. "The police lab here works pretty closely with the local STAR Labs branch in Central City, so if push comes to shove I'll just send a sample of this stuff over to them for testing."

"What're you going to do in the interim?" Hunter inquired.

"I don't know…sign out early, I guess," and now Wally stretched. "I did promise a couple of folks that I'd stop by after work today."

"Well, my guess is you won't be getting out of the lab anytime soon this afternoon," Hunter chuckled. "Right before I came in here, I ran into your supervisor. Apparently, you decided to take a lengthy bathroom break and he wasn't happy about that…especially since you'd left the metal piece over a hot plate for a decent amount of time unattended."

"Yeah, he's already chewed me out about that," Wally admitted.

Hunter nodded. "Anyhow…I need to get back to my office right about now. Good luck identifying that stuff, whatever it is." And he turned, leaning somewhat heavily on his cane, and hobbled out of the lab, leaving Wally alone again.

----------

_**Central City Channel 4 News, 2:35 p.m., in the meantime**_

Linda and Marla were standing together in the station manager's office; all three of them were watching the footage Marla had caught of the confrontation between Flash, Superman and the three super-criminals. "Quite interesting," the manager remarked. He was an older man, sporting brown hair with gray streaks at the sides. "That Cobalt Blue guy managed to steal Flash's powers, yet Flash bounced right back moments later."

"Well, we all know Cobalt Blue's energy-stealing is only temporary, sir," Linda answered.

"That's true, but still…to be able to come back with even greater force than before after being drained…" The manager shook his head in wonder. "Our scarlet speedster's certainly a man of talent!"

"So, the story makes the evening news, then?" Linda asked hopefully.

The manager nodded. "Why, certainly, Linda—and tie it in with the Justice League's earlier battle with the Thinker. After all, Flash was the one who directly beat him, and now he's the one who stopped these three lunatics."

"Okay…I guess now it's time for some serious video editing," Marla commented.

"So let's get straight to it, then!" Linda turned to leave.

"Just a minute…all of that can wait till later."

The two women turned to look at the manager, puzzled. "Sir?" Linda asked.

He leaned forward, a twinkle in his eye. "I have another story I would like you to cover—one that could really put Central City on the map. I hope it's not a problem…?"

Linda and Marla looked at each other, then back at him. "No, sir, not at all!" Linda said eagerly. "Just fill us in!"

"Very well, then." The manager leaned back in his seat. "I trust you've heard of Amunet Black?"

Linda's eyes widened at the mention of the name. "You mean that big-name industrialist who moved her company here to Central City three months ago? Who _hasn't_ heard of her?"

"Then here's your assignment," said the manager. "Her company, Blacksmith Corporation, just issued a press release stating that they've developed a new product for use by the police department. They haven't stated what that product is, but they've said they're going to give an official demonstration in front of City Hall in…two hours, by now."

"And you'd like for us to go and cover this demonstration, right?" Linda guessed.

"There you go," the manager nodded. "And it'll be especially good if you could get an interview with Ms. Black herself about this new product. Make the story as comprehensive as you can."

"We're on it, sir!" Linda replied, and Marla nodded agreement.

----------

_**Justice League Watchtower, 2:45 p.m.**_

Superman sat in the dining lounge, idly sipping away at a root beer, the plate of macaroni and cheese in front of him relatively untouched. Glancing down momentarily at the food, he picked up his fork and stuck it into the pile of cheese noodles. Taking a bite, he chewed slowly, deliberately. "Not enough cheese…they need to try harder…"

"Well, well, who would've thought I'd run into you here!"

Looking up, Superman saw Green Lantern approaching his table. "Oh, hey, John," he greeted the other man. "I was hoping I'd run into one of the original seven at some point."

"Why's that?" Lantern asked, taking a seat opposite the Man of Steel. "Something you wanted to discuss?"

Superman fixed a look on Lantern. "G.L…it almost happened again today. Flash almost…vanished…like that time those years ago."

Lantern raised an eyebrow at that, understanding immediately. "Is he all right?"

"Yes, but…" Superman rubbed his fingers against his forehead. "He was fighting against three of his rogues' gallery, and one of them drained his speed. I happened to be in the area and went down to assist, but they incapacitated me pretty quickly. And then, next thing I knew…Flash was covered in electricity, like back then…"

Lantern's face was very grave as this information sank in. He, too, remembered all too well what had happened back then. The League's original seven had gone to confront the fused Lex Luthor and Brainiac, but in the end it was Flash who single-handedly took down the duo, ripping Brainiac out of Luthor's body at super-speed in the process. But after that…right before their eyes, Flash had vanished into thin air…

"I know what you mean," Lantern said quietly. "We nearly lost him that day…it was just fortunate for us that he managed to appear before us in that dimensional tear, and we were able to pull him out of it back into our world."

"And he's never gone as fast as he did since then—until today." Superman sighed. "When I looked at him, I could see it was taking everything in him to not vanish again. But I'm concerned that if he's forced to go at such speeds any more times, he won't be so lucky."

"What do you want to do?" Lantern inquired.

"As soon as he comes back up here, I'm having him do a physical to ensure there's no serious aftereffects from the battle," Superman answered. "But I want to tackle this from another angle, as well. That dimension Flash was sucked into—what did he call it…?"

"Uh…the Speed Force, I think," Lantern replied, trying to remember.

"Yeah, that." Superman nodded. "I need to get some information on it, if at all possible—from someone who understands mysticism better than anyone else. And I have a pretty good idea of who I can go to for that kind of information…"

"Well, when you do get it, let me know," said Lantern.

"Let you know? I was actually gonna ask you to come with me," Superman told him.

"And I would, but…I can't exactly leave the Watchtower right now. I have to stick around until Booster Gold finishes his chores—give him assurance I'm still here," answered Lantern. Seeing the puzzled look on Superman's face, he explained, "He and I are supposed to spar in the gym once he's done working—spar without using any superpowers. He evidently has something he wants to prove."

"Hmmm…sounds like fun. Mind if I come and watch?" Superman asked, an amused smirk on his face.

"If you're back from your trip before he's done with his chores, then sure," Lantern nodded. "Come watch me teach him a lesson in humility."

Now Superman could barely stifle his chuckle. "I dare say it's about time _somebody_ got around to schooling Booster. And who better than the one everybody always mistakes him for? Although, I do kind of feel sorry for him…"

"Don't worry, I won't hurt him…too much." And now it was Lantern's turn to smirk.

----------

Elsewhere on the Watchtower at that moment, Booster Gold was furiously mopping the floor of the Javelin hangar, where several of the Justice League's space vehicles were parked. "Halfway done," he grunted. "Good thing I put up the 'No Entry' sign near the hangar doors—it would just suck if somebody were to come in right now and ruin what I've done up to now."

Floating nearby, Skeets regarded him. "I must say, Booster, I would never have calculated a human body capable of completing as many tasks as you have done within the last hour and forty-five minutes. According to my data, only individuals who possess super-speed would be able to do as much work within this time frame successfully."

Booster paused to wipe his brow with the back of his hand. "Motivation, Skeets, remember?" he answered.

"Excuse me…"

Immediately Booster looked up. "Hey, hey, HEY! Careful, I just mopped that section of the floor!"

"No need to worry, I saw the sign," Dr. Light replied, standing right at the entrance. Then a bright glow of light formed around her, and she floated slightly above the ground and over to where Booster and Skeets were.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Light," Skeets greeted her. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

"I have been hearing a few comments from the regular maintenance crew for the last hour or so, and I had to find you to sate my curiosity," Dr. Light replied, turning her attention to Booster as she spoke. "As best as I know, normally when you are assigned tasks that do not put you in the spotlight, you complain. But today I'm hearing that you have been mopping and washing dishes without so much as a murmur—and doing your work quickly and efficiently, too."

"And so…?" Booster looked at her expectantly.

"I was just wondering, were you promised a special gift if you completed your work today? Is that why you have not been whining like you tend to do?" Dr. Light asked, cocking a curious eyebrow.

"You could say that…" Booster started.

Skeets cut in before Booster could finish. "Green Lantern promised Booster a duel in the gym after he has finished with his chores."

"SKEETS!" Booster snapped.

Dr. Light fingered her chin thoughtfully. "That sounds quite intriguing…you, going up against the famed Green Lantern."

"Stop—just stop, okay? I don't want to hear it," Booster said crossly, turning his back on her. "I've been getting enough of that from Skeets, thank you very much."

"Huh?" Dr. Light was astonished at Booster's forward rudeness.

"You think I don't know?" Booster said bitterly, even as he swished the mop around in the bucket. "The great Green Lantern, the man everybody idolizes next to Superman, is going to have a field day beating up the one schmuck who everybody ALWAYS mistakes for Green Lantern himself! Well, you can keep your comments to yourself—I'm not interested!"

Pulling the mop out of the bucket, he at once began mopping again with a renewed vengeance. Dr. Light crossed her arms as she looked at him. "You have a lot of anger in you, Booster Gold. Especially with regards to anything that has to do with Green Lantern."

"Thanks, Dr. Obvious," Booster grumbled.

"And a lot of sarcasm, too," Dr. Light added, making a face.

Skeets turned to Booster. "I believe in situations like this, humans usually make some sort of effort to…apologize for offending another."

"Don't bother, my metallic little friend—it's all right," Dr. Light spoke up. "But I will tell you, Booster…you will not be able to beat Green Lantern in a sparring match—not like this."

"Told you, I'm not interested!" Booster spat, his back still to her.

Dr. Light bit her lip as she considered a moment. "I wonder…how many chores do you have left to do before you can challenge Green Lantern?"

"What does it matter to you?" Booster scowled.

Dr. Light chuckled a little bit. "If it is not too much trouble, I would like to assist you."

Booster didn't turn to look at her—but she did notice his mopping had slowed a little. "Assist me?" he asked snidely.

"At the very least, if you are to face Green Lantern in a confrontation, the odds should be level, no?" Dr. Light reasoned. "It would be both unfair and boring if you were unable to put up a fight against him for any reason. Then you would really suffer humiliation."

Booster's movements paused completely; he leaned on the mop and frowned as he considered this. "Well…I guess you do have a good point…"

"She certainly does, Booster," Skeets remarked.

Now Booster turned to face Dr. Light. "But can I ask you something? Why would you go out of your way like this to offer me help, when you could be doing other stuff?"

Dr. Light shrugged. "I have my reasons. So…" She fixed a knowing gaze on his face. "Is my offer accepted or not?"

His face seemed undecided for a moment. "Well…I suppose it wouldn't hurt to have a little extra preparation…"

"I shall take that as a yes." Dr. Light smiled now.

Booster shrugged. "All the bathrooms on the Watchtower need to be mopped—_all_ of them—plus I need to wash the maintenance personnel's dirty laundry. That's all I've got left to do."

Dr. Light nodded. "I'll get started on the laundry for you, then. You just finish here, and then we can take care of the bathroom mopping together." And now she turned and floated out of the hangar.

"Interesting," Skeets remarked. "Booster, I do believe your chances for defeating Green Lantern may have just gone up…to 15 percent."

"Whatever, Skeets," Booster grumbled as he resumed mopping…only now it was with genuine energy, none of the anger he'd exhibited only moments before.

----------

**_Salem, Massachusetts, 2:55 p.m._**

Superman was now flying in the skies over Massachusetts, keeping a close eye out. "Hmmm…almost there…"

A moment later he found himself over a huge, open-spaced field with nothing but trees in the surrounding area. Landing, he surveyed the area more carefully. The trees that were closest to his position had upon them a somewhat eerie aura, foreboding and, to a degree, depressing in an odd sort of way. That seemed to contrast somehow with the blue, cloudless sky and the bright sun shining overhead.

He took a few steps forward and narrowed his eyes. "Dr. Fate!" he called out to the open air.

Then—out of thin air, a huge stone tower materialized, only two feet in front of Superman. Smirking a little, he stepped forward, despite the fact that there was no obvious front door or any windows anywhere in sight on this mysterious building. "Sorry to disturb you, but…I need your help," he called.

There was no reply to his call this time; a breeze merely blew past, disturbing Superman's cape, the grass under his feet, and the trees in the nearby background. The strange tower merely stood there, but Superman looked intently at it, as if expecting it to talk to him.

"You do not disturb me, Superman. I had just finished my meditation session when I sensed you coming this way."

All at once, a blue circle of energy opened outward in the wall of the tower…and then, from that energy circle appeared a man clad in a blue costume, with a belt, gloves, boots and a cape that were all colored yellow, and a gold helmet that covered his whole head. His cape billowed in the wind as he approached Superman. "To what do I owe the honor of your visit today? It _has_ been a while since you last came to pay a visit to my humble abode," he said in a voice filled with quiet yet definite power and authority.

Superman raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. "Well…this is a little unexpected. I was expecting your wife would be the one to answer the door, not you…"

"Inza is inside doing research on a few magical incantations," Dr. Fate replied. "But she is not the one you came to see…you wished to speak to me."

"True enough." Superman nodded. "Well, Dr. Fate, I'm afraid my visit isn't a social call."

"Ah. League business then, I suppose?"

"No…not League business, either," answered Superman. "Actually, this is a personal matter…one that I really want to try and understand, and I need your assistance to deal with it."

Dr. Fate studied him. "I see…and apparently, this matter of which you speak troubles you greatly, or you would not have come to see me. I _am_ assuming that this is a matter regarding magic or something magical in nature?"

"You could say that." Superman now appeared a little sheepish. "To tell the truth, this situation is kind of hard to explain…"

"Perhaps you would like to come inside and try your best to paint me a picture of what you are talking about," Dr. Fate suggested. "I will do my best to assist you however I can."

"I appreciate it, Dr. Fate," and Superman's voice held a note of gratitude.

"Very well, then." Dr. Fate then turned and walked back into the swirling energy circle, and Superman followed behind him. The energy circle swallowed up the two men…and ever so slowly, it shrunk almost into nothingness, leaving only a bare wall where it had been on the tower's face only moments ago.

_**CHAPTER 6 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 7 COMING UP!**_


	7. Chapter 7

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 07

_**Central City Police Department, 4:20 p.m.**_

"Okay! So much for that…"

Wally pushed himself back from the desk and sighed. He wasn't seated at his regular workstation—now he was in a separate room in the lab, surrounded by shelves filled with chemical-filled beakers and microscopes. In that room was a large table on which sat an impressive-looking computer database, along with several microscopes of varying sizes. On the slide for one of those microscopes, the Petri dish with the melted substance from the metal piece of evidence now sat; meanwhile, Wally typed away at the computer's keyboard, looking intently at the screen as he did so.

"Sheesh…none of this makes any sense!" he grumbled as he typed. "So much for the report…"

"Wally? Have you finished that analysis yet?" the sound of his supervisor's voice came up behind him.

Wally swiveled around in his chair. "Well, I've made some headway, but what I've seen so far doesn't add up at all," he announced.

"How do you mean?" the supervisor inquired.

Wally then gestured to the report he'd been typing on the screen. "I ran the substance's chemical blueprint off everything we had in our computer files, and then tried to do a cross-match over the Internet…zilch."

"So, essentially, we're no closer to identifying this than we were before?" the supervisor raised an eyebrow.

"At least we know this much," answered Wally. "It seems to be a kind of bonding agent that functions like hardened plastic wrap. The way it's set to mold, it makes it pretty tough to get a grip on whatever it's coating once it's had time to settle into place. I was thinking of taking a sample of it over to STAR Labs as soon as I left here today…maybe they'll have better luck identifying it."

"Sounds like a plan," the supervisor nodded. "All right, then. Why don't you take it over to them right now? I'll call them now and let them know you're on your way."

"Yeah, sure, that sounds like a plan," Wally nodded in agreement.

Standing up, he went over to a shelf and took down a small metal box. Opening it, he gingerly placed the Petri dish inside. "All right! Now we'll get to find out what you really are!" he gloated to the box.

"Not that quickly, I'm afraid," the supervisor laughed.

"Well, anyway…later!" Wally nodded to his boss and walked toward the door.

----------

A few minutes later Wally emerged outside the doors of the CCPD, clad in his street attire and holding the box securely under his arm. "Okay…time to speed over to STAR Labs!" he announced.

"Hey, kid! Finished with that metal thing you were supposed to be looking at?"

Glancing up, Wally saw Officers Chyre and Morillo at the foot of the steps. "Oh, hey, guys," he greeted them. "Actually, I got a little far, but I have to take my findings over to STAR Labs for further analysis now."

The two cops looked at each other, then back at him. "Well, we're actually headed that way—wanna ride with us?" Morillo offered.

"Hey, yeah, sure! That would be good!" Wally nodded and jogged down the steps toward them—then stopped. "Uh, where's your car?"

"Zolomon's bringing it around to the front," explained Chyre. "He insisted on coming with us—said he wasn't going to miss Blacksmith Corporation's demo for anything."

"Demo?" Wally had a puzzled look on his face.

"What? You mean you don't know? It was all over TV over the last hour!" Morillo exclaimed, a look of surprise on his face.

"Relax, Morillo; you know how these forensic scientist guys can get—all work and no recreation." Chyre then turned to Wally. "The Corporation's boss was saying that they've got some kind of new product for us cops to use. They're going to be demonstrating it at City Hall in another couple of minutes."

"Hey, sounds pretty good," Wally remarked.

Just then a squad car rolled up to where the three were standing. "Hello again, Wally," Hunter spoke up form the driver's seat. "Are you coming to see Blacksmith Corporation's demonstration, too?"

"Well, actually, I just heard about it," Wally admitted. "But I guess I could stop and see it for a few minutes…just as long as I can get to STAR Labs afterwards."

"Not a problem! Hop in!" Hunter answered.

"I'm calling shotgun!" Morillo shouted.

----------

**_The Rogues' Hangout, 4th Street, 4:25 p.m._**

There was a section of Central City, somewhere in the middle of the city's layout, where even cops didn't hang around for the fun of it. This area was known as the seediest neighborhood in the entire town. Only a person with extreme guts or foolhardy courage could walk into this part of town unannounced. On the street corners, it was never too difficult to find some rather…questionable characters hanging around. The atmosphere was always one where you had to watch all sides of you at all times, not daring to blink for a moment.

Of course, that way of thinking only applied if you were an ordinary civilian, and only if it was nighttime.

As it was at present, this series of streets could pass for any other in all of Central City. The occasional car passed by on the road; the still-present sunlight emphasized the color of the buildings standing opposite each other. One or two civilians could be seen with groceries, entering the front doors of tall, brick-built apartment buildings.

On one of those streets, snugly nestled amidst the architectural maze of this part of the town, there was a bar with a neon sign hanging over its front. The sign's lights weren't blaring now, of course, as it was daytime; but there was a sign on the door that said "OPEN," a sure indicator that the place was open for business. From the street, one could hear moderate rock music playing inside the bar.

But if a newcomer to Central City were to go to the bar's window to look in, that newcomer would be surprised. From the window, one could easily see what was inside: the bartender's counter, the big cabinet of drinks behind said counter, several seats and tables all around, and two big pool tables, as well as a dartboard on the wall. Tough-looking men sat here and there with drinks in hand. Beautiful young women and older, hardened matrons served as waitresses, walking about with notepads to take orders or trays to deliver orders. But if one took a closer look, one would also see that among the patrons were people dressed in elaborate, some might say eccentric, costumes, colorful and definitely out of place in such an environment—and yet, neither they nor the more normal-looking patrons would take much notice of it.

For this bar, the newcomer would eventually have to know, was the very spot where the super-villains of Central City hung out when on a break.

And at this particular hour, there were quite a few costumed villains seated all around in the bar. And they, along with the other patrons, were looking up at the television screen that had been built into the wall above the bartender's counter.

"Good afternoon, everyone; I'm Linda Park for Channel 4 News," the pretty reporter on the screen was currently saying. "Right now you're joining us live at City Hall here in Central City, where in just a few moments we'll be treated to a special display courtesy of Blacksmith Corporation. Earlier today the company's CEO, Amunet Black, indicated that this display would prove beneficial to the city's local police department, so we can expect that our men and women of law and order will, come end of the day, be better able to protect and serve than ever before. Now, if you'll just glance behind me, you'll see that there are a lot of dignitaries pulling up to City Hall right now…"

Immediately there was a low murmuring in the bar, even as the reporter continued chatting on-screen. The conversation was now all about this supposed upcoming enhancement to the police; it was particularly vocal at some of the tables where the super-villains were sitting.

"So…the cops are going to get upgrades now, huh?" one man wondered. He was brown-haired, dressed in a striped green and yellow body suit, with a yellow emblem on his chest and a black domino mask on his face. "I wonder what kind of top-up they'll be receiving?"

"Could you _not_ start with the 'top' catchphrases today, Top?" the man sitting across the table from him asked irritably. This one was clad in a black body suit, but also wore a torso-vest, armbands and leg-bands that each had seven different colors of the rainbow. On his face he wore a pair of light blue goggles.

"Do you have a problem with my catchphrases, Rainbow Raider?" Top asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It just gets so irritating to hear them after a while," Rainbow Raider answered. "At least try talking without using the 'T' word every now and again. It won't kill you, plus your language will have a bit more…color."

"Pfft. Says the guy who uses color-based catchphrases every day," Top scoffed.

"Hush now about that…what are we going to do?" another man sitting alongside them asked fretfully. He wore an odd-looking costume, green with white circles, and what appeared to be a green nightcap on his head. On the table in front of him he had a big flute. "If the police are going to get upgraded, and by such an important company such as Blacksmith Corporation, what does that say for our chances here in Central City?"

"Would you stop being such a pied pansy, Pied Piper?" Top grunted. "For all we know, these 'upgrades' could very well turn out to be new types of firearms or body armor or something like that. And since when has any of that ever stopped us Rogues? When it comes down to us versus the cops, we're on top of the world!"

Rainbow Raider rubbed his fingertips against his temples. "Anyhow…I personally don't think we should act all yellow while this new upgrade or whatever is allowed to be showcased."

"And what would you suggest—breaking up the gathering at City Hall?" Pied Piper asked. "That would work, except—do you remember how some of the other Rogues tried to disrupt the Flash Museum's opening ceremony, and got captured and sent off to prison for it?"

"Actually, the way I hear it is, the Trickster sold them out before they could even do anything," Rainbow Raider remarked.

"If that's true, then he'd better not show his face around this neighborhood for a while," said Top. "Because I know three guys who'll be more than happy to break his legs. And if it was me he double-crossed, he'd get a lot more than his legs broken." And his lip curled upward in a nasty smirk.

"Still, all said and done, we can't be complacent about _this,"_ and Pied Piper nodded toward the TV. "Because if we don't do something now, then next thing we know the police will be swarming all over the city, driving us out like rats!"

"You're just being overly paranoid and jumpy, is all," Top answered, stretching in a bored manner. "Heck, if I felt like it, I could easily get a hold of that upgrade and they'd never be able to catch me."

"Arrogant, as usual," Rainbow Raider grunted. "What would you do—spin your way out of trouble? I'm amazed you don't turn greener than your own costume when you do that."

"Yeah, well, at least I don't become colorblind when I spin!" Top retorted.

Silence descended over the table as the last remark sank in. Then Top shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat. "Sorry. Low blow."

Rainbow Raider shrugged. "Never mind. I was out of line myself."

"Well, whatever." Pied Piper stood up. "I'm not going to just sit around and wait till that new upgrade gets passed to the police."

"Now, now, are you going to go down to City Hall all by yourself?" Top asked.

"Well, I don't see you two moving—all you're doing is insulting each other, like you do _every single time_ you sit together in this bar!" Pied Piper snarled between clenched teeth.

"Don't be seeing red all of a sudden, Piper," Rainbow Raider said soothingly. "You're not the only one this police upgrade will affect, after all. And besides, strength in numbers, correct?"

"Yeah," Top nodded in agreement. "And with us three, those schmucks at City Hall will never know what hit them. So, let's pay them a little visit, shall we?" And he stood up as well.

----------

_**Justice League Watchtower, 4:30 p.m.**_

Mr. Terrific tapped his fingers on the edge of the console as he watched the news on the screen. "Looks like Central City's pretty prominent today," he remarked.

Just then the doors behind him opened, and in walked Green Lantern. "Did I just hear something about Central City?" he asked. "Something happening there again?"

"Yeah," Mr. Terrific nodded. "Blacksmith Corporation's putting on a demonstration for new police equipment at Central City Hall. They should be starting up in another couple of minutes."

"Blacksmith Corporation?" Lantern raised an eyebrow. "I don't think I've ever heard of it…"

"Not many people would," Mr. Terrific admitted. "From what I know, the company's been operating in Keystone City for quite a number of years; they only started setting up shop in Central City about three months ago. They specialize in setting up low- and middle-tier industries and development of technology for the bioengineering field, but their CEO, Amunet Black, has managed to make herself quite a fortune from her endeavors. Apparently, though, she's never really been one for the spotlight, unlike companies like Lexcorp or Wayne Enterprises."

"A low-profile lady…guess that explains why she's not in the media limelight," Lantern remarked. "Also makes me wonder about her authenticity…"

"Well, you shouldn't have too much to worry about as far as her criminal record goes," Mr. Terrific told him. "From what few official reports can be dug up about her, she's got no prior problems with the law or the government. And as for her company's work, all of it has been approved by the suits up at the White House."

"Well, that's pretty convenient, don't you think?" Lantern asked doubtfully.

"Maybe—but then again, you do have to give her the benefit of the doubt," said Mr. Terrific. "After all, right about now she IS going to showcase something that'll greatly improve the quality of the Central City police force's work. But…I'm a bit worried…"

"About?" asked Lantern.

"Well, with such an important event about to happen down there, it's pretty likely a couple of the Flash's enemies might see fit to get involved," Mr. Terrific replied. "I went through the super-criminal database, and it turns out quite a few of Central City's rogues have been off the security radar as of late. And Flash probably has his own hands full with his day job after having to stop the last bunch of villains a couple hours ago, so…"

"Okay, I get the message," Lantern spoke up. "I'll drop down there and keep an eye out for trouble."

"Right." Mr. Terrific nodded.

----------

_**Central City's City Hall, 4:33 p.m.**_

The squad car pulled up alongside several others that had congregated along the street leading to City Hall. "Okaaaaaay…guess more people were hyped about this thing than I expected," Wally remarked as he watched several people walking in the direction of City Hall's building.

"If traffic's snagged up like this, we're going to have to walk the rest of the way," and Morillo opened his door and stepped out.

"Yeah, got that right," Chyre agreed. "They'll probably have designated parking for the big-shots and reporters covering this, anyway."

"Let's just hope we're not late," Hunter sighed as he pulled himself out of the driver's seat, pulling his cane after him. "It'd really get to me if we couldn't get to see what they'll be contributing to the force."

"In that case, let's get a move-on!" Wally said eagerly, breaking into a jog.

"Not so fast, Wally," Hunter called after him. "Some of us can't run, remember?"

At that reminder Wally stopped. "Oh, right. Sorry."

"Good. Now we can all go together." Chyre then spoke to Wally. "Hey, kid, how about you leave that box of yours in the car? You've had it on you the whole time we were on our way here…"

Glancing down, Wally saw that the cop was right—he was still holding on to the box with the evidence sample. "Heh…I guess it would make a lot more sense to not have this thing on my hands…"

Walking back to the car, he dropped the box on the floor behind the driver's seat; then he stood back while Morillo locked the car. "Now…" Morillo chuckled as he pocketed the keys. "Let's get going!"

----------

Further up ahead, closer to City Hall, Linda Park was standing by her news van, carefully applying her lipstick while looking into her compact mirror. Standing nearby, Marla regarded her with some faint amusement. "You do remember that _that's_ how Mirror Master and those other guys managed to infiltrate the Flash Museum that time, right?" she smirked.

"Oh, shut up," Linda snorted as she finished applying the lipstick—but in the same moment she snapped the compact mirror shut.

"Well, anyhow, we should get ready to broadcast again," said Marla, picking up her video-camera.

"Marla, so far all we've been doing is getting coverage of the ever-growing crowd of spectators," and Linda waved a hand to indicate the people who were congregating close by. "The people from Blacksmith Corporation are obviously not here yet—not even the Mayor's party is here! It's just a waste of time broadcasting right now!"

"Ever hear of being fashionably late, Linda?" Marla asked somewhat indifferently, hoisting the camera onto her shoulder. "These big-shots have that right. Get used to it."

"Uh-huh," Linda snorted, making a half-hearted attempt to smooth her hair back with one hand.

"Look! They're here! They're coming through!"

Visibly startled, Linda spun around—and saw a sleek white limousine coming up the road toward them. "Whoa…!"

"Told you so," Marla smirked.

Quickly Linda turned to face her camerawoman again, this time frantically brushing her hair back with her fingers while gripping her microphone in one hand. "Marla! How's my hair? Is it good?"

"It's fine, Linda," Marla assured her. "Now, just breathe deep. Just breathe."

Swallowing, Linda steadied herself with the mike in hand. "Okay," said Marla as she steadied herself as well. "And you're on in four, three, two, and…!"

Linda nodded. "Hello again, everyone, and welcome back to this special live broadcast from Central City's City Hall. I'm Linda Park, reporting for Channel 4 News. If you're just joining us, we're here to bear witness to a special demonstration that will be given by Amunet Black, CEO of Blacksmith Corporation; a demonstration of a new piece of equipment that will subsequently be donated to the local police department to improve their crime-fighting tactics for the better. Now…"

She turned and gestured toward the white limo, which had by now pulled over to the curb. "At this moment, a party from the Mayor's office has just arrived in her personal limousine. Look, there they are right now…"

Marla shifted the camera a bit so the focus was on the Mayor's car. True to Linda's word, alighting from the vehicle were the Mayor and her personal entourage. "There's the Mayor there, along with her bodyguards," Linda spoke on. "And…"

Suddenly, immediately coming out of the car after the Mayor's group, was a tall, very voluptuous woman. Her hair was coal-black; her skin was perfectly tanned, with not a hint of a stretch-mark or pimple on it. Whereas the Mayor was wearing a simple brown business suit with a skirt, this newcomer was wearing a dark blue pants-suit, making her seem almost masculine save for her physical features that pointed out the obvious. She was wearing spike-heeled shoes, but apparently had no trouble walking in them the way she might walk in flat-soled shoes. Her face was a picture of perfect calm, even amidst the noisy clamoring of the surrounding crowd.

Linda had paused in her reporting to stare in awe at this woman. Marla, still pointing the camera in the Mayor's general direction, looked at her partner out of the corner of one eye. "Linda…" she hissed as loudly as she dared.

"Huh?" Hearing her name snapped Linda out of her seeming trance of admiration. "Oh, uh, yes—that right there is the CEO of Blacksmith Corporation herself, Amunet Black. It seems she and the Mayor had prearranged to come to this event together…okay, there they go now, through the crowd, to the front of City Hall, where this gathering will be addressed in just a moment."

She stepped forward, making her way into the crowd; Marla took her cue and followed after her. All the while, the camera kept a lock on the Mayor and Ms. Black as they and their party went toward the front, going through the humongous gathering. They watched as the group made its way up the steps to the podium, where a large microphone was ready on a stand. "Okay, there they are now," Linda spoke into her own mike. "Apparently the Mayor's going to speak to everyone right about now."

The Mayor stepped forward to the prearranged mike. "Good afternoon, everybody," she began. "First, let me thank you all for coming out today. This day marks a moment of change for the people of Central City, and especially for the future of our state of law enforcement. Today, our very own Blacksmith Corporation will be showing to us their newest product, a product that will revolutionize our police and make their work of protecting us and upholding the peace even simpler than ever before."

There was some light applause at that.

"And now," the Mayor continued, a smile on her face, "please help me to welcome to the mike, the founder and CEO of Blacksmith Corporation—Ms. Amunet Black!"

During the Mayor's introductory note, Ms. Black had been quietly standing behind her not making a movement or uttering a sound. Now, though, as the applause from the crowd started again and grew louder in welcome, she stepped forward with a small smile on her lips. And then those lips parted as she prepared to speak to the mass gathering…

**_CHAPTER 7 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 8 COMING UP!_**

(NOTE TO BE MADE: Some might feel that there are enough villains making appearances in this story already—but I say, a number of them that are appearing only got two-second cameos in the JLU series, and never got any speaking parts, while others obviously never even appeared on the show…so let's just sit back and enjoy the villains actually getting some character development!)


	8. Chapter 8

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 08

_**Central City's City Hall, 4:40 p.m.**_

"'Scuse me…pardon me, coming through…"

Wally gingerly eased his way through the congested crowd, with Chyre, Morillo and Hunter only moments behind him. "Looks like we made it just in time," Chyre observed. "Seems Blacksmith Corporation's leading lady is about to speak."

Wally eased himself up slightly on tiptoe so he could get a look at City Hall's front steps, several meters ahead. "So that's her? The lady up at the mike?" he asked. "Wow, she's gorgeous!"

"And filthy stinkin' rich, too," Morillo added.

"Shh, fellows, she's about to speak," Hunter reprimanded them.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen of fair Central City," Ms. Black spoke into the microphone. Her voice was rich, copper-colored, smooth as silk and yet very firm at the same time. "First, let me just say how pleased I am that so many of you have come out to view this demonstration today. I know it's only been a few months since Blacksmith Corporation came to reside here in this city, but it is my hope that, after today's demo, our relations with the citizens of Central City will be well and truly solidified…and somehow, I have a feeling they will be."

There was some light applause from the crowd.

"Now, let's get down to it, shall we?" Ms. Black continued. "You'll already know that our company's newest development is meant to enhance the effectiveness of our local police force…but you do not know, as yet, just what that enhancement will entail. Well…behold!"

All at once a roaring noise overhead caused everyone present to look up—and flying over City Hall at that precise moment was a massive helicopter, with a large crate suspended from its underside by a chain. As the people watched in awe, that chain was slowly lowered, the crate coming ever closer to the ground. Four of the Mayor's bodyguards immediately headed for the spot where the crate was being lowered to while nearby civilians immediately pulled back to allow them room to work.

"Whoa…that's original," Wally whispered, his voice nearly deafened by the noise of the helicopter rotors overhead.

At length the crate reached close enough to the ground for the four bodyguards to grasp it. They struggled for a minute as they tried to pry it loose from the suspending chain; but in a few minutes they had it secure on the ground. One of them then looked up and flashed a salute to the helicopter pilot; apparently satisfied, the pilot turned the helicopter around and flew off, the vehicle's rotors noisily spinning.

Then the bodyguards hefted the crate off the ground, lifting it with some difficulty up the steps to where Ms. Black and the Mayor were standing. Murmuring swept through the watching crowd; everyone was now utterly curious as to what that crate could possibly hold that would better the police's performance.

"Must be some kind of new weapon, man…"

"Nah! It's gotta be a totally new kind of bulletproof vest or something!"

"Well, if it IS a vest, it better be superior to that crappy stuff the police have been getting from the city budget lately!"

"What're you talking about? The cops' regular vests aren't all that bad!"

"I still think it's some kind of new weapon…"

"Ahem." Ms. Black cleared her throat, grabbing the crowd's attention again. "As you'll have deduced by now, the police upgrade is inside this crate." She turned to the bodyguards. "Would you be so kind as to open this, please…?"

Two more bodyguards stepped forward, each bearing a big crowbar. Immediately they stuck the crowbars' curved ends into the top of the crate, working on either side while the four men that had retrieved the crate held it firm by its base lest it should accidentally topple over. The crowbar-wielders worked their tools gingerly…and ever so slowly, the edges of the crate were pried back. Then suddenly, with one simultaneous pull on the crowbars, two sides of the crate were pulled completely off with a resounding _CRACK!_

A moment later, the rest of the crate was disassembled—and everyone's jaws dropped at what they saw. "What in the…" Hunter breathed.

Right there on the platform for all eyes to see, there stood a very interesting-looking suit of armor. At least, one got that impression from looking at it. It had a headpiece, vest, gauntlets and boots that were made from some kind of black metal. Underneath that metal, there was a dark blue body suit that appeared to be made of material similar to a Kevlar vest, from top to bottom.

In the crowd, Marla had her camera lens set on the armor. "THAT'S the new upgrade for the police department?" she asked skeptically. "Doesn't look all that original to me…"

Beside her, Linda shook her head. "C'mon, Marla, give them a break, would you?" she whispered. "They haven't even gotten to explaining any of its strong points yet!"

"If it's got any that the military's uniforms don't have already," Marla grunted.

Ms. Black spoke again. "This armor that you see here is Blacksmith Corporation's 'Protector Model.' As the name suggests, it'll protect its wearer from virtually anything thrown at it—which I will demonstrate now." She smirked. "However, to give an accurate test of that claim…I need a volunteer."

Instantly whispers flew through the crowd as everyone looked at each other. Ms. Black laughed at this. "Oh, don't worry, folks; I'm not asking anybody to _put on_ the Protector Model—I've already decided who the test subject in question will be. The one who'll wear this armor for the purpose of the demonstration…will be yours truly."

At once a simultaneous gasp swept through the people. "Um, Ms. Black, are you sure you want to take such a risk?" the Mayor asked, a little nervously.

"No need to fret on my account, dear Mayor; it'll be perfectly fine. I guarantee it." Ms. Black nodded. "So, then, everyone, while I put on the Protector Model, go ahead and decide who among you would like to test my product's durability claim."

Wally, Hunter, Chyre and Morillo all looked at each other. "So…what do you guys think?" Morillo asked.

"Well, I guess the lady must be real confident in her little invention if she's going to make herself the guinea pig," Wally reasoned.

Hunter shook his head. "I don't think so. There's no military-standard uniform I've ever seen or heard of that's impervious to every single thing. This one's got to have some kind of weakness, no matter what that woman says."

Chyre smirked. "All right, then. I say that this new toy of Blacksmith Corporation's going to sell to the department faster than clothes to teens." He eyed the others. "Loser buys all the donuts for the Division for the rest of the week."

"Sorry, I'm not a gambling man," Hunter rolled his eyes.

"Don't let Zolomon rain on your little parade—I'll take you up on that bet, Chyre!" Morillo said eagerly.

Meanwhile, Ms. Black had already slipped off her jacket and was now carefully putting on the armor. The bodyguards had taken its components off the plastic dummy that had been wearing it only moments ago; now the metal parts were on the ground. Ms. Black slipped into the body suit, which covered her clothes fairly easily and, from the looks of it, quite comfortably. "Thank the heavens she didn't have to take her clothes off to put that thing on…" Linda muttered, twiddling her microphone in her hand as she watched this display.

By and by Ms. Black had put on all the metal components of the suit. Slipping the headpiece into place, she looked out at the crowd. "So? Anyone want to come up and try their luck?"

"We'll topple that fancy suit of yours, lady!"

The loud voice, coming from behind, caused everyone to turn and look—and instantly several gasped and pointed in astonishment. "Look out!" someone screamed.

High above the crowd but coming down fast, were three costumed men riding on an ever-lengthening rainbow slide of sorts! "Whoa! Top, Pied Piper and Rainbow Raider!" Wally exclaimed.

"Ugh—what is this, Costumed Freaks Day?" Hunter asked disgustedly.

"Sorry, but that's as long as that suit of yours will get demonstrated for!" Pied Piper shouted to Ms. Black. "Now, let's see if it can stand up to the power of SOUND!"

With a flourish he whipped out his flute and began to play a few notes on it. Almost instantly a sonic blast burst out from the end of the flute, tearing into the ground below and sending several screaming civilians flying! As others ran for cover, the blast slammed into Ms. Black, sending her flying right into the wall of City Hall and smashing a hole right through it!

"No! You monsters!" Hunter yelled, drawing for his sidearm. "Stop at once or I'll shoot!"

"Seconded!" Morillo whipped out his gun and pointed it at the three villains, and Chyre swiftly did likewise.

Wally backed away a few steps, looking around on all sides. "Uh-oh…not good…"

Top jumped off the rainbow slide, landing on the ground to face the cops. "You were saying something about shooting?" he taunted them. "Come on, I dare you." And then he stood with his hands on his hips.

Livid, Hunter, Chyre and Morillo started blasting at the villain. But suddenly—to their amazement—Top began to spin in place, spinning so fast that he was only a blur…and the bullets ricocheted right off him! "Argh!" Hunter growled in exasperation.

Top abruptly stopped spinning and grinned…and, out of nowhere, he was now holding a green-barreled gun with an extra-wide nozzle! "Now, fellows, let's see if my gun can top yours!"

He pulled the trigger—but instead of bullets, out shot three rapidly-spinning tops! They hit the ground and spun right toward the bewildered officers—and suddenly burst open, revealing numerous steel wires that wrapped themselves around Hunter, Chyre and Morillo, tying them up securely and causing them to lose their balance! "Ow! Hey! Let us loose, you lunatic!" Chyre roared.

"Sorry, but you guys obviously weren't on top of your game, and already I've grown bored with you," Top waved them off. "Now, I've got things to do…"

Then he glanced to one side. "What's this, now? Heh…this'll be tops…"

----------

A short distance away, Marla and Linda were hiding behind one of the nearest parked cars, Marla recording the action on her camera. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you're still joining us live," Linda spoke frantically into her mike, "then you'll see that three of Central City's super-criminals have broken up the demonstration! Top, Rainbow Raider, and Pied Piper are making a stir—just hours after Cobalt Blue and his cohorts and the Thinker stirred up trouble today!"

Marla shifted the camera slight, capturing on tape Pied Piper and Rainbow Raider, still riding on the latter's rainbow slide, rushing through the panicked crowd. "Uh, Linda…where's Top…?"

"What? You don't see him?" Linda demanded—then paled. "Marla…!"

By reflex, Marla lowered the camera…and was just in time to see a grinning Top stalking in their direction. "Oh, crud…"

"Well, now…" Top looked from one to the other of them; then his gaze settled exclusively on Linda. "You're that reporter girl that was covering the Flash Museum, weren't you? Well, how about I give you an _exclusive_ interview, hmmm?"

"S-stay back!" Linda cried out, backing up immediately.

"Aw, c'mon, I'm not gonna bite." Top grinned again.

"HEY! Back off, you freak!"

To Top's amazement, a young redheaded man dashed in between him and the two women. "You better leave these girls alone and get out of here, man!" the newcomer shouted.

Top's grin vanished immediately. "Okay, boy, either you've got to be the gutsiest person I've ever met, or you're just an idiot."

"I'll show you!" the redhead snapped, lunging forward with his fist drawn back.

"Hey, no, don't!" Linda screamed out. "He'll cream you!"

The stranger then punched forward—but Top easily managed to sidestep the attack, swiftly grabbing his assailant's arm in the process! "Now…round and round and round we'll go!" he announced—and just like that, he hefted the hapless guy over his shoulder, at the same time spinning extra-fast as he'd done before! Then, the next thing Linda and Marla knew, they watched in horror as the guy was forcibly flung away by the momentum of Top's excessive spinning!

----------

_Okay, that wasn't exactly the smartest thing I've ever done…but I HAD to do something! That reporter lady and her camerawoman were in trouble! Of course, right now I'm not sure who's gonna be in much worse trouble—them, now that they're at Top's mercy, or me, now that I'm sailing way up high!_

Having been flung up into the sky by Top, Wally quickly assessed his situation as best he could. Top had spun so fast and consequently flung him so hard, that he was presently several dozen feet above ground, just high enough to almost touch the tops of some of the lampposts were they close enough. Glancing around, which was difficult considering that his whole body was currently flailing about involuntarily, he was able to ascertain that even while Rainbow Raider and Pied Piper continued their antics nearby, several civilians were pointing up to where he was with screams of terror coming from them.

_Not good…when I was on the ground there were too many people running around for me to find a good enough place to change…and I definitely can't do it up here, where everybody's likely to see me… _Wally closed his eyes and braced himself. _Looks like this is it, then…and I couldn't even get a chance to…!_

"Whoa, there, now!"

All at once Wally felt himself enveloped by green energy. "Whoa…that wasn't expected…"

"You all right?" a familiar voice asked.

Wally smirked a little and shook his head. "How long you been here, G.L.?"

Indeed, holding the airborne Wally in a bubble of green energy powered by his ring was the Green Lantern. "We'll discuss that later—important issues to deal with now," he said in a low tone.

Wally nodded in understanding. "Got it! Just set me down—I'll be okay!"

Lantern promptly lowered the green bubble low to the ground, near the side-wall of City Hall, and then relinquished the energy, freeing Wally. "You'll be all right now, mister—I'll handle things here!" Lantern said aloud.

"Thanks a bunch!" Wally yelled back. Then he turned and ran off, pulling out a ring from his pocket as conspicuously as he could.

----------

"Rats!" Pied Piper cried, seeing the Green Lantern rescue some poor schmuck that had gotten tossed into the air by Top. "One of Flash's Justice League buddies is here!"

"No need to get so blue," Rainbow Raider said coolly. "Hop off my rainbow slide. I'll take care of him."

Pied Piper nodded and promptly jumped down, landing right near the wall where his sonic blast had earlier hurled Ms. Black. He paused and looked at the gaping hole that was now there. "Hmph. So much for her little 'enhancement,' at the very least…"

"You there…you're the Pied Piper, aren't you?"

Pied Piper started—the voice had come from the hole in the wall! "What…are you…alive? That sonic blast should've at least knocked you out!" he exclaimed.

Footsteps sounded from the hole…then, to Pied Piper's ever-growing astonishment, Ms. Black emerged, with not even a dent in the Protector Model suit! "Well…I didn't exactly expect I'd be down THAT long," she remarked, casually dusting herself off. "But at least the shielding qualities of the Protector Model work rather well."

"Shield against THIS!" Pied Piper swiftly put his flute to his lips and played a tune—and immediately another destructive burst of sound ripped toward Ms. Black. It hit her head-on, pushing her backwards…but this time around, having expected it, she was able to brace herself and, amazingly, was able to withstand the attack!

Ms. Black chuckled at the dumbfounded expression on Pied Piper's face. "Looks like I really did outdo myself when I had this built," she remarked, looking at the armor in fascination. "Now…let's see how well it'll work when I'M the one attacking."

----------

"Awww…this is so not tops," Top complained as he saw the Green Lantern flying up to meet Rainbow Raider. "Oh, well, not a big cause for concern. Raider can handle that nuisance while I steal myself an interview!"

He turned around—just in time to see the reporter and her camerawoman heading further away from him while still videotaping everything that was happening around them. "Ladies, ladies, ladies," he said in a scolding tone. "Where are you going to so quickly? The interview hasn't even started yet, and already you're leaving?"

"How about an exclusive interview with ME?"

Turning, Top saw a scarlet fist flying straight for his face. Unable to react in time, he took the blow and got sent flying right into the side of a car. Hitting with a loud _crash,_ he slumped slightly to the ground. "Flash…when did you get here?" he demanded.

Indeed, standing before him was Central City's scarlet speedster, a look of triumph on his face. "Actually, the question you should be asking is, how long will it take me to spin your butt right back to jail?" he quipped. "And speaking of which, you really shouldn't be interrupting important city meetings such as this. That's not exactly top-brass behavior, even for a super-villain."

Top swiftly got back up. "I make the 'top' statements around here, Flash, and don't you forget it!" he crowed. "And just to prove my point…" And he pulled out his top-shooter again, firing a spinning black top at Flash.

----------

"I don't believe it…a bunch of costumed freaks running around loose!" Hunter snarled, wriggling in a vain attempt to free himself of his steel restraints. "Why can't they just stay in the loony bin where they belong?"

"Right now the question you should be asking is, how exactly are we gonna free ourselves from these things?" Morillo complained. "I can't even move!"

Chyre was looking straight toward the City Hall steps, where he could see Ms. Black kicking and punching at a defending Pied Piper. "I gotta say, I had no idea Amunet Black had such moves," he remarked, extremely impressed. "And that armor actually protected her from Piper's attacks without so much as a scratch—I definitely need to get one of those!"

"Okay, okay, so _maybe_ that suit of hers could be useful to the department," Hunter said reluctantly. "If that's the case, then we wouldn't have much more need for the Flash…" he added contemptuously under his breath.

Morillo cringed. "Man, I do believe I just lost a bet…"

----------

"Yes, yes! Get him, Flash!" Linda cheered, even as she watched Flash evading more and more of Top's tops. "Marla, you getting all this?"

"Trying to!" Marla replied, positioning her camera for one-second shots. "In case you don't realize, Linda, Flash isn't the only one fighting now—there's Green Lantern, too, and Ms. Black's kicking the crud out of Piper in that suit of hers!"

Linda sighed. "A hat-trick…who would've thought I'd get a hat-trick in one day…"

"What?" Marla asked.

"Three exclusive stories in one day, Marla—and all of them involve Flash in one way or another!" Linda said excitedly. "Isn't that the coolest thing?"

Marla sighed and shook her head. "You're hopeless…"

----------

Rainbow Raider and Green Lantern regarded each other, airborne, high above the chaotic battlefield below them. "You know, last time I checked, this wasn't your natural green pasture," Rainbow Raider remarked. "So if you know what's good for you, you'll fly away right now and save both of us time and trouble."

"Actually, I'm here in Central City because I had plenty of free time on my hands," Lantern answered coolly. "And the only ones who're going to be in serious trouble are you and your buddies down there."

"Not if I have anything to say about it!" Suddenly Rainbow Raider's goggles glowed bright white—and he fired a massive rainbow beam at Lantern!

The hero, however, swiftly put up an energy shield in front of himself, blocking Rainbow Raider's assault. "The whole laser-beams-from-eyes trick isn't so original, you know," he commented. "You're going to have to do way better than that."

"Not impressed, huh?" Rainbow Raider asked. "Then how about I take the color out of your world, and see what you have to say then?"

He put a hand to his goggles and narrowed his eyes. A moment later, a white laser blast shot out from the goggles at Lantern, who easily put up another shield to block it. "Still not original, man," Lantern reproached him.

But Rainbow Raider only smiled. "Fool."

Suddenly—to Lantern's astonishment—his green shield started to turn bone-white! As he took this in, the white swiftly spread to his body, seemingly washing off every trace of color from his costume and even his skin! "Ugh! What…what is this?" he exclaimed…and then put a hand to his chest. "Argh…feel…weak…but how…?"

"It's the effect of my goggles," Rainbow Raider said proudly. "It can shoot blasts of color with corresponding effects depending on the color. In this case, I used a white beam that sucks away all of your color and effectively weakens you. Now, you're easy prey."

"…ridiculous…" Lantern managed to sputter before falling out of the air, landing hard on the ground.

Rainbow Raider rode his rainbow slide down to the ground where Lantern now lay. "And now…time to white you out of existence!" he announced.

**_CHAPTER 8 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 9 COMING UP!_**

(NOTE TO BE MADE: While writing this chapter, I happened to come across a couple of sites seriously berating Rainbow Raider for his "lameness." Yes, I realize his powers may come across as silly, but try considering his motives…and try considering them from a completely colorblind person's point of view. Although admittedly, I'm still trying to figure out how draining someone of their colors weakens them…it's not something I made up, it's something I saw in an online biography for Raider and decided on-the-spot to use.)


	9. Chapter 9

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 09

**_Central City's City Hall, 4:55 p.m._**

_Thwack! Bam! Pow!_ Pied Piper stumbled backward, in a daze, as Amunet Black, CEO of a major company and armed in a suit of armor of her own design, slammed her fists and feet into him repeatedly. "What's the matter? I thought all you super-villains were supposed to be able to take a beating!" she taunted him.

Shaking his head defiantly, Pied Piper raised his flute to his lips—but Ms. Black reached forward and grabbed it, yanking it away from him. In the same motion, she sent her knee right into his crotch, causing him to double over in agony. "Geez, you're pathetic…shouldn't you be ashamed of yourself?" she asked. "Ashamed that a mere civilian could kick your butt, armor or no armor?"

Piper gingerly stood up again, his face a mask of rage as he advanced on her. "Give back my flute, you little…" but that was as far as he got before Ms. Black swiftly pulled back her fist.

----------

Rainbow Raider now stood over the weakened and de-colored Green Lantern. "Now, say goodbye!" he cried giddily as he put his fingers to his goggles again—

—but all at once something heavy slammed into his side, knocking him completely flat! "AGH! Hey, Piper, what're you doing?" he shouted at his fellow villain.

Having just crashed into Rainbow Raider, Pied Piper was slumping to the ground. "She's…tough…" he managed to whisper, before passing out.

"Huh?" Puzzled, Rainbow Raider glanced up in time to see Ms. Black advancing on him. "I see…so you and that fancy armor of yours were able to best Piper, eh?"

"That's right, palette freak," Ms. Black said coolly, flexing one wrist as she spoke. "And you're next."

"I beg to disagree on that point," said Rainbow Raider. "Piper was a fragile little fellow to begin with—but I'm not so yellow-bellied! Now, witness a sample of my power!"

Again he put his fingers to his goggles…and at once the goggles began to glow bright purple! "Unlike most of the other Rogues, my powers don't only cause physical damage by themselves—they can also be used to cause psychological damage as well!" he boasted. "Case in point—I can manipulate your emotions by using the right color blend, or I can drain your color completely and thus weaken you like I did to the Green Lantern here!"

Lantern, struggling to move on the ground, barely managed to raise his head. "…get…away…" he implored Ms. Black.

But she merely scoffed. "Hmph. You called the Pied Piper weak—but if that's all your powers are really good for, then I'd have to say fighting him was at least more engaging than this."

Rainbow Raider's fingers twitched at that. "You…are you mocking my abilities, woman?" he demanded angrily. "Just for that, feel the red-hot fury of the Rainbow Raider!"

All at once, the purple glow from his goggles turned bright red, and he fired a blast of crimson energy straight at her! "No…!" Lantern hoarsely exclaimed, watching in alarm as the beam came ever closer to the woman.

But Ms. Black merely smiled. "Idiot."

The blast was almost upon her—but just as it was about to connect, she ducked down and dived out of the way altogether! As a result, the blast went right past her, missing her by only a few bare inches, and made a destructive impact upon the steps of City Hall in the process! And…even as Ms. Black fell shoulder-first toward the ground after having dodged, she raised one gauntleted hand in Rainbow Raider's direction…

…and suddenly a small gun-turret emerged from inside the gauntlet's mechanism, aimed straight at the villain! "Got you!" Ms. Black exclaimed as she reached with her free hand for a button on the gun-turret, immediately firing two pellets from it!

"Huh?" Rainbow Raider exclaimed—right before the pellets smashed into his goggles, breaking the lens into tiny shards! "AAAGH! MY EYES!" he screamed, clutching his face with both hands.

Ms. Black stood up, smirking. "Still think you're all that?"

Rainbow Raider swiftly ripped the damaged goggles from his face, dropping them to the ground. All around his eyes, little pieces of glass were sticking out of his flesh. "Argh…how dare you!" he grated, glaring at her. "Just be glad you haven't blinded me altogether—but don't think for a minute that that'll stop me from taking my revenge!"

"Actually, man, you're just about done."

"H-huh?" Stunned, Rainbow Raider looked in the direction of the new voice…and found himself face-to-face with Green Lantern, his color scheme completely back to normal! "But…crud…"

Lantern swiftly raised his ring-hand—and from his ring he formed a transparent green fist that punched Rainbow Raider hard under the chin, knocking him off the ground! Caught off-guard, the villain had no time to react as the green fist came at him again, slamming into his stomach and pounding him right into the ground! "OOF!" Rainbow Raider grunted as he hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of him.

Lantern immediately used his ring's energy to create rope-like restraints around the beaten villain. "Thanks, I guess," he addressed Ms. Black.

"Good to see you're back to your own natural emerald color," she replied. "Damaging the Raider's goggles must've been enough to break the power he had over you just now…although I'd advise you next time not to underestimate any of Central City's villains. Just…don't let _him_ know I said that," and she nodded her head at Rainbow Raider.

"Uh-huh," Lantern shrugged.

----------

"Wow…I guess Ms. Black's Protector Model was actually worth something after all," Marla marveled, her video-camera capturing Ms. Black, Lantern, and the downed Pied Piper and Rainbow Raider. "Now her company's sales of that armor are gonna skyrocket!"

"Well, that's all jolly well and good—but let's not forget, there's still one other Rogue to watch out for!" Linda said urgently.

Indeed, not more than ten feet away the Flash was still running about, doing his best to evade the numerous tops that the Top was firing from his top-shooter. "Aw, come on! These tops aren't even doing anything except spinning around!" Flash laughingly complained.

"Oh, really?" Top sneered. "I wouldn't be so quick to make that kind of conclusion!"

Flash was currently running in between a number of the tops that had long been launched and were now spinning along the ground. But then—several of the tops suddenly burst open, spewing acid everywhere! "Whoa! Hey, now, careful!" Flash exclaimed, jumping back and narrowly missing getting splashed by the acid in the nick of time.

"Those trick tops of mine have been specially tweaked," Top explained, crossing his arms in a self-satisfied manner. "They are set to burst open after a certain amount of time, to expose the nasty little treats that they hide within. All I had to do was vary the amount of time it would have to take for each top to spin before breaking open. The only thing you don't know now is, what exactly is waiting for you inside each top? Will it be steel restraints, like what I used to tie up those ridiculous cops? Will it be more acid, like what you've managed to save yourself from just now? Or will it be something else…?"

As Top spoke, two more of the tops burst open—but this time, what flew from their remains were several razor-blades, all flying right toward Flash! Seeing them coming mainly toward his upper body, Flash just barely managed to bend over backwards in order to avoid getting impaled by the flying blades—but suddenly something lashed around his neck, pulling him down to the ground. "Ack!" he choked out.

Taking regard of the top that had unleashed dozens of piano wires around Flash's neck and was now strangling him with said wires while still spinning, Top grinned maliciously. "That one's a personal favorite of mine," he explained. "I've been testing it over and over until I could get it to spin in sequence without tangling up all those lovely wires unnecessarily…and now, you get the distinct honor of being its very first victim! And the best part is, I don't even have to dirty my own hands while you die!"

Flash was now gripping the wires, trying vainly to pull them from his neck; but the harder he pulled, the tighter they seemed to become. "This…sucks…!" he rasped.

"Hey, you! Get away from him!"

All at once a bright emerald beam slammed into a completely unprepared Top, sending him sailing across the street! "Ungh!" he grunted as he landed on the sidewalk.

Flash managed to look up, just as the same green beam slashed the wires around his neck and freed him. "Thanks, G.L., I needed that," he gasped out, holding his throat and fighting to regain normal breathing. "But what happened to the other two…?"

"They've been taken care of," Lantern assured him, offering him a hand to lift him up. "All that's left is that guy…"

Flash smirked. "Well, if he's all that's left, then I say let's clean him up quick."

With that, the two heroes walked over to where Top had fallen. At that moment Top himself was shaking his head, trying to get his bearings back, when he noticed the two shadows approaching him. "Uh…I suppose it wouldn't be a tip-top idea to resist at this point, would it?" he asked, chuckling weakly.

"Not unless you want a few broken limbs," Lantern answered sternly, pointing his glowing ring at the villain.

"Yeah, and considering what you nearly did to me, I wouldn't be so inclined to stop him," Flash added, rubbing his neck as he spoke.

Top looked from one to the other of them—then, slowly, he raised his hands in surrender. "Oh, well. Maybe next time."

----------

_**Central City's City Hall, 5:15 p.m.**_

A few minutes later, Lantern had Top, Rainbow Raider, and Pied Piper in three separate energy cages made from his ring, while awaiting the arrival of the police to take them away. Meanwhile, not too far away, Flash was sitting on the sidewalk, still rubbing his neck. "Well…that could've gone a little better," he admitted softly.

"Excuse me, Flash…can you spare a few minutes?"

Looking up at the sound of the voice, Flash saw Linda and Marla coming towards him. "Oh, hey, it's the news-lady," he smiled a little. "Yeah, sure, I'm always ready and willing for interviews." And he stood up.

"What do you have to say about today's battle—especially considering it interrupted Ms. Amunet Black's demonstration?" Linda asked, holding her microphone out to him.

Flash rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh, yeah…well, that WAS a bit of a disappointment, for real…"

"Actually, I wouldn't quite say that, Flash," Ms. Black's voice came over to them. Turning, they all saw her approaching, still clad in her Protector Model armor but holding her helmet under one arm. "In fact," she continued, "I'd say that the intervention of those super-criminals just now was a perfect test for the Protector Model. As you would have no doubt witnessed," now turning her attention to Linda and Marla, "the Protector Model was able to withstand even an assault by the so-called master of sound, Pied Piper. Thus, it proves my earlier claim that this armor can withstand anything thrown at it—I was able to take down Piper by myself, and also stopped the Rainbow Raider with just a little help from Green Lantern to contain him."

Flash bit his lip. "Well, uh…"

"Don't be so worrisome about it, Flash—it's not as if I'm stealing your credit or anything," Ms. Black smiled at him. "After all, you did help out a little, too, in bringing these three criminals to justice. But if you'd like to help out further, maybe you could do something about those three men over there that are still tied up…?" And she pointed in a direction.

His gaze following her pointing finger, Flash saw at once that Chyre, Morillo and Hunter were still being restrained by Top's steel bonds. "Oh, yeah—I completely forgot about those guys!" he exclaimed, dashing off toward them.

A second later he was standing over the three cops, still attempting to wriggle their way out of their restraints. "Okay, guys, just gimme a sec and I'll get you out of these," he told them as he bent down to help them.

Hunter looked up at him. "Uh-huh, just like you were able to get yourself out of Top's trap a while ago?" he snorted derisively.

Flash stopped short. "Huh?"

"You think we weren't able to see everything that was going on in spite of being tied up like this?" Hunter jeered. "You and that Green Lantern, both members of the oh-so-wondrous Justice League, got your tails kicked all over the place, while an ordinary, non-vigilante civilian was able to fight toe-to-toe with two of your fellow freaks! And with that armor of hers soon to be distributed among the cops, the very same armor she just used to beat those guys, the least you'll be able to do is spare yourself any further embarrassment!"

"Whoa, now, Zolomon, that's not really fair," Morillo chimed in.

"Well, you saw it yourself—Central City's supposedly great protector wasn't able to do his job!" Hunter snapped loudly. "That's just further proof that crime-fighting is meant for those who act on the orders of law enforcement—not a bunch of masked charlatans!"

"Hey, kid, could you just get us out of these, please?" Chyre asked, moving his shoulders uncomfortably.

"Uh, yeah, sure." Flash nodded. Then he turned to look in Lantern's direction. "Uh, G.L., I need a blowtorch or something to get these restraints off…"

"I'm actually watching these three right here, Flash," Lantern reminded him, pointing to the captured super-criminals.

"Oh…well…" Flash looked back at the officers. "Guess I'm gonna have to do this the hard way, then."

"That won't be necessary, Flash—I have just what is needed for this situation."

Flash looked up in time to see Ms. Black approaching. "Oh, you do?" he asked. "So, like, that suit carry a blowtorch or something?"

"Better." Ms. Black then held up one of her gauntlets—and from the side of the wrist, a small saw-edged blade spouted! "Tempered steel, imported on special delivery order from Japan, and able to cut through most materials with ease," she explained. "Now, officers, brace yourselves—this could be a little uncomfortable."

"Better than letting _him_ do it," and Hunter shot a withering look at Flash. The hero flinched at that.

Ms. Black promptly reached for Morillo's bonds first, slipping the blade into the nearest available groove and working it in gingerly so as not to injure him. "Now, just relax," she told him, working the blade back and forth.

Flash stepped back a little and watched as Ms. Black cut into the steel bonds. To his amazement, the blade cut the bonds with little resistance! "Whoa!" he whispered under his breath.

In what seemed no time at all, Morillo was shrugging off what was left of the wires. "Whew…thanks," he said to Ms. Black. "I was just about ready to cramp up."

"No problem," Ms. Black answered. Then she turned her attention to Chyre and Hunter. "Okay, gentlemen, now it's your turn."

Morillo stretched a little—then looked around. "Hey, where's Wally? I hope those Rogues didn't get him…"

Flash blinked. "Uh…what's he look like? I could probably find him for you, if you want."

"Oh, well…it's a young guy with red hair. You can't miss him," Morillo replied.

Flash nodded, then sped off in another direction. He ran for the side of the City Hall building…then, a few moments later, he ran back out sans his costume, clad in his civilian attire once again. "Hunter? Chyre? Morillo? Where you guys at?" he hollered.

Morillo, having turned to watch while Ms. Black used her suit's blade to free Chyre, now looked up. "Wally, that you? Over here, man!" he beckoned to him.

Wally jogged over to where they were. "Hey, kid, you all right?" Chyre asked, even as Ms. Black's blade continued its work on his bonds. "I saw Top throw you pretty hard…"

"Well, yeah, he did—but the Green Lantern saved me just in time," Wally answered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"And that's about the only USEFUL thing he did, I'm sure," Hunter said sardonically.

From where he was with the captured criminals, Lantern turned his head a little on hearing Hunter's comment. Wally, having turned to look at him, saw the action. "Uh, Hunter, maybe you shouldn't be so hard on him," he remarked. "I mean, if it wasn't for him and Flash, things might've turned out a lot differently…"

"Sure they would have—for the better," Hunter answered. "All those two managed to do was get knocked down by those other freaks. It was Ms. Black here that beat Pied Piper single-handedly and dismantled Rainbow Raider's goggles—with the same armor she's going to give in bulk to the department soon."

"You flatter me, sir," Ms. Black smiled, cutting through the last of Chyre's bonds.

"Come on, Hunter, at least give credit where credit's due," said Chyre, now slowly standing up and rubbing his stiff shoulders. "Flash and Green Lantern did manage to capture Top, after all."

"Yeah, whatever," Hunter growled as he watched Ms. Black working on his bonds now. "The only reason WE couldn't have taken Top down ourselves was because he got lucky. That's all there is to it, nothing more."

"Uh…well…anyway…" Wally looked around. "I guess I better leave the cuffing of those Rogues to you guys, eh? Meanwhile, I still have to make that delivery to STAR Labs. It shouldn't be too far from here to walk to."

"I think you'd better stick around, Wally," Hunter addressed him. "After all, I'm the one with the keys to the car, and I'm not free of these bindings yet. I can still drop you there, you know. And besides…it looks as if the regular beat cops have finally arrived. Took them long enough, too…"

Indeed, a few armed SWAT officers were now converging on the scene, and Lantern was relinquishing his ring's energy to allow the three super-criminals to be handcuffed and led away. Having done so, he himself glowed bright green and took off toward the skies. "Guess he's not one for ten minutes of fame, huh?" Chyre remarked as he watched Lantern leave.

"All the better—one less vigilante to worry about," said Hunter, and now his bonds gave way as Ms. Black cut through the last of them.

"Excuse me!"

The group's attention was now caught by the approaching Linda Park and her camerawoman. "Would any of you care to comment on the battle just now?" the reporter inquired.

"No…no comment," Hunter said gruffly, and shuffled off.

"Uh…yeah. What he said." Chyre walked off. Morillo shrugged apologetically, then went off after the other two.

"Hmmm…" Linda frowned, then turned to Ms. Black, who was just retracting her blade back into the gauntlet. "How about a word from you, Ms. Black? I'll bet nobody had any idea you could demonstrate your armor's potential so well!"

Ms. Black chuckled at that. "Young lady, the Protector Model may have been specially designed by me, but on its own it's just armor, all said and done," she said. "It all depends on the personal skill of the one who's wearing the armor. For my part, I guess you could say all the time I've spent taking self-defense classes from my company-paid teachers have been well worth it." She chuckled again.

"And the police will be able to achieve the same as you've shown today, once the department gets these Protector Models from Blacksmith Corporation, correct?" Linda asked.

"It's as you say." Ms. Black nodded. "Well, I must be taking my leave right now. Excuse me." And she turned and headed away.

Linda turned to face Marla's camera. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, there you have it—a word from Amunet Black, whose Protector Model aided in the defeat of the three super-criminals who attacked today's conference here at City Hall. Reporting live for Channel 4, I'm Linda Park."

"And you're off." Marla switched off her camera and lowered it from her shoulder, then turned to walk off. "Okay, Linda, let's get out of here. I really don't want to stick around any more—I've had enough of having to deal with super-villains for one day."

Linda sighed. "Yeah…although honestly, I was hoping to at least get another comment from Flash…"

Wally, meanwhile, had stood off to one side so as not to get in the view of Marla's camera while Linda had been conducting her interview. Now, seeing her start to walk away, he stepped forward. "Hey, reporter-lady…you all right?"

"Huh?" Linda turned to face her addresser. "Uh…you're that guy who tried to save us from the Top, aren't you?"

"Glad to see you remember me…although I doubt what I did was the smartest thing I'd ever done in my life," Wally admitted.

Linda shook her head. "Maybe not, but it _was_ really brave of you to risk your life like that. Are you hurt?"

"Nah, Green Lantern managed to save me after Top threw me," Wally replied. "From there, I just went to safety. I'm just a little…embarrassed that I couldn't do more than I did." His cheeks flushed crimson as he said this.

"Uh-uh, don't let it bother you too much," Linda told him. "I'm a reporter, after all. It's natural for me to put my life on the line to get a good story."

"Just so long as you don't do it too often," Wally answered. "Oh—I'm Wally, by the way. Wally West." And he held out a hand.

"Yeah…" Linda reached out with her own hand and shook his. "Linda Park."

"Hey, Wally, come on! We still have to deliver the evidence to STAR Labs! Shake a leg!"

Wally turned to see Morillo, Chyre and Hunter beckoning to him from a distance. "Yeah, yeah, you guys, I'm coming," he called back.

"Oh?" Linda raised her eyebrows. "You're a cop, too?"

"Well, forensic cop is more exact, but yeah." Wally nodded.

"I'll say this, you're certainly more social than those three over there, at least," said Linda, flicking a disdainful glance at the trio.

"I guess," Wally shrugged. "Well, anyway, I gotta head off. We were carrying some evidence from the Thinker case today over to STAR Labs, and decided to stop and see Ms. Black's demonstration."

"From the Thinker case, you say?" Linda asked, immediately interested. "Care to give any information on that…uh, off the record, that is?"

"Hmm, I don't know…"Wally smirked. "Maybe if you pay a visit to the Central City Police Department and ask for me, Wally. Maybe then I'll think about it."

"Maybe if I do that, they'll throw me out on my ear. Cops usually don't like reporters." Linda eyed him.

"Well, then, if that's the case, maybe I should invite you for a cup of coffee and we can talk it over," Wally returned, smiling.

"Maybe you should invite me," Linda answered.

"Maybe you should accept."

Now she smiled back. "Maybe I will."

"Wally! Come on!" Hunter shouted to him.

"Yeah, yeah!" Wally shouted back. Then he looked at Linda again. "There's a little coffee shop a couple minute's drive from the station—Betsy's. What's your schedule like tomorrow at 11?"

Linda nodded. "I can make it."

"Great. I'll see you then." And Wally now turned and ran toward the other cops, leaving Linda with a twinkle in her eye.

_**CHAPTER 9 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 10 COMING UP!**_


	10. Chapter 10

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 10

_**En route to STAR Labs' Central City branch, 5:25 p.m.**_

A little while later, Wally, Hunter, Chyre and Morillo had driven off from City Hall and were now back on their way to STAR Labs. "So, Wally…what was up with you and that reporter girl?" Hunter, at the wheel, asked with a faintly amused smirk. "Asking her out on a date, were we?"

"What? Hey, no, it's nothing like THAT!" Wally exclaimed, his face flushing a bright shade of red.

"Sure, sure." Hunter shook his head. "We all saw how you were looking at her back there. And I do have to admit, she's not so bad on the eyes."

"I wouldn't encourage him, Zolomon." Morillo, sitting beside Wally, looked grave. "No matter how pretty she may be, she's still a reporter. And reporters are good at one thing only—sticking their noses where they don't belong, WHEN they don't belong there."

"I agree," Chyre grunted as he turned in his seat to look at Wally. "Hey, kid, I think you should keep away from that lady. Before you know it, she'll likely squeegee all the scandalous secrets of the private lives of every cop in Central City out of you and make a juicy little story out of it all. That's what reporters are born to do."

Wally rubbed the back of his head. "Aw, c'mon, guys, you're just being paranoid here. I mean, it's just gonna be a cup of coff—" Suddenly his eyes widened and he clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Aha! So it _is_ a date, then!" Hunter pounced on that.

"Hey, I never said that!" Wally cried defensively.

Morillo ran a hand over his own face. "Geez…already he's decided not to follow our advice before it's even sunk in."

"Heh, heh." Then suddenly the chuckle vanished and Hunter's face was more serious. "But you listen to me, Wally. These guys are right about reporters—those folks are always working to uncover something that'll make a news story for them, even when they appear to be least intimidating or dedicated. I've heard a lot of stories about officials who ran their mouths off around seemingly dull reporters who claim to be off duty—only to see something incriminating about themselves in the paper or on the morning news the next day. So, be real careful what you do or say around that girl."

"Guys, it's not like I'd deliberately spill any secrets I wouldn't want out in the open," Wally protested.

"Maybe you wouldn't do it on purpose, but you never can tell with those inquisitive people," Chyre answered. "They've got a way of twiddling you around their fingers until they get you to say exactly what they want to hear from you. Believe me, reporters are nothing but trouble best left avoided."

Presently Hunter sat up briskly in his seat. "Well, fellows, here we are."

The police cruiser was pulling up near the steps of a gray-slab building. The steps themselves looked almost like the steps one would find outside a courthouse, except these were fewer in number, only about ten or so. At the top of them was a huge star-shaped monument, chiseled out of ebony marble of some rare and rich-looking kind, with the words _Central City STAR Labs_ emblazoned in big gold letters on its front. Behind this monument were three pairs of revolving glass doors, through which a number of persons were coming and going.

"All right…time to get this inside," Wally reached down and took up the evidence box, securing it under his arm before opening his door.

"Mr. West! About time you got here, young man!"

Alighting from the cruiser, the four cops looked up at the sound of the authoritative voice. Wally smiled when he saw who it was. "Hey there, doc! Been a while, hasn't it?"

From the top of the steps, walking down to meet the group, was a rather tall, raven-haired woman in a lab technician's white coat with a purple dress underneath. "Don't try to sweet-talk me, Mr. West; you should have been here long ago! Time is precious to me and my work here at the lab, you know!" she scolded him.

"Sorry about that," Wally apologized. "There was a little bit of trouble when we were passing by City Hall…"

The woman's eyebrows rose up at this. "Oh, you mean with those super-criminals crashing Amunet Black's presentation? Yes, I saw that on the news…but that's still no excuse! You should have just come straight here, instead of stopping and getting mixed up in that entire hullabaloo!"

"Well, she does raise a bit of a point…" Morillo looked a little sheepish.

"Oh—forgot my manners," Wally said suddenly, blushing in the process. "Guys, meet Dr. Tina McGee, one of the head honchos here at STAR Labs."

He wasn't prepared for the sharp slap across the ear. "OW!" he cried out, very nearly dropping the evidence box as he swiftly raised one hand to his ear.

"You KNOW I do not tolerate the use of slang, Wallace West!" Dr. McGee snapped. "But you never seem to get it through that thick head of yours, do you?"

Morillo nudged Chyre. "Guess we can understand why she's a head honcho…"

Dr. McGee leveled a glare in Morillo's direction. "Excuse me, did you say something?"

Morillo looked trapped. "Uh…no, no…nothing important…"

Hunter stepped forward to defuse the situation. "Um, Dr. McGee, the point is that we're here now, and so is the Thinker case evidence we need STAR Labs to analyze for us…" and he gestured to the box Wally was holding. "Would it be too much trouble for you to examine it and tell us what you think?"

"Humph!" Dr. McGee put one hand on her hip in an authoritative manner. "Well, since the Central City PD already called ahead to say you were coming, I suppose it would be a real bother to send you back so soon after you've arrived. All right, then, hand it here."

A little hesitantly, Wally stepped forward, holding the evidence box out to her; he flinched a little as she snatched it away from him. "So, uh, heh-heh…how soon can you look at that, doc?" he asked.

"Well, I can't promise you any near-to-the-future dates," Dr. McGee replied. "The soonest I can promise is tomorrow evening, and that's not a guarantee."

"As long as it gets done, it's fine," Chyre spoke up. "Well…I guess we shouldn't take up much more of your time, then. You must be a busy woman, after all."

"At least ONE among you is mature enough to appreciate my workload," Dr. McGee replied. "Well, I'll call your department as soon as we have something to share about this bit of evidence. Until then, good day, gentlemen." And with that, she turned and walked back toward the building's revolving doors.

"There goes a strong-willed woman," Morillo sighed. "Good luck to the man who marries her."

Wally chuckled. "She _is_ married."

"HUH?" Morillo turned and stared sharply at him. "Married? Her? But—then she must have the poor guy _whipped!"_

"Not really," Wally shook his head. "He's the other person in charge of this STAR Labs branch."

Morillo sighed and shook his head. "I won't even try to understand it…"

"Anyhow, the delivery's done, so can we head back now?" asked Chyre, turning and walking back to the cruiser.

"Yes, boys; we do still have work to do back at the office," agreed Hunter, and he turned and headed for the car as well, with Wally and Morillo only a few steps behind him.

----------

_**Justice League Watchtower, 7:00 p.m.**_

"WHEW! Finally, all the chores are DONE!" Booster Gold shouted jubilantly.

He, Dr. Light and Skeets were in the storage room, putting away the cleaning tools they'd been using to clean out the Watchtower's bathrooms. "It's quite amazing you were able to finish so quickly, even with help from Dr. Light," Skeets remarked. "By the way, Dr. Light, thank you for rendering assistance to Booster. According to my calculations, he would have been at it up until tomorrow if not for you."

"Would not, Skeets!" Booster glowered at the robot.

Dr. Light chuckled. "It was my pleasure," she assured both of them.

"Well, anyway, let's finish putting away all this stuff," Booster continued. "Then you can keep your end of the bargain we've made!"

"Patience, Booster, patience," Dr. Light admonished him. "One thing at a time." And she slid the broom she'd been holding into a nearby closet.

"Patience? Come on, doc!" Booster protested, even as he leaned the mop and bucket in his hands against a nearby wall. "All my chores are done as of now, and then I'm gonna go up against Green Lantern! How can I possibly be patient?"

"Lesson number one, Booster." Dr. Light turned to face him, a glint in her eyes. "You are far too eager to rush into a confrontation with Green Lantern. Face him with such a reckless attitude, even in a sparring match, and he will certainly humble and embarrass you."

"Well, what do you want me to do?" Booster asked in growing agitation.

Dr. Light crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Very well, then. Attack me."

"W-what?" Booster blinked, certain he hadn't heard her right.

"I said, attack me. Come at me as though you were going to bash my face in. Strike me with all the wild fury you have within you." Dr. Light's face was without a shard of emotion.

"Booster, the stress level of Dr. Light's voice indicates that you should indeed do as she has asked," Skeets remarked, floating a little ways away from the duo.

Booster looked from one to the other of them. Then he shrugged. "All right, doc, if you say so. Just don't hate me later 'cuz I did as you asked."

"Stop talking and just do it." A note of irritation was starting to creep into Dr. Light's tone.

Whereupon Booster cracked his knuckles, then clenched his fist tightly. "Here I COME! YAAAAAAAH!" he yelled out, drawing his arm back and dashing at Dr. Light. Almost upon her, he thrust his fist forward…

…but to his utter astonishment, he suddenly found the world spinning a full 360 degrees and then felt a sharp blow to the whole length of his back, followed by something heavy pressing down on his neck and a twisting feeling in his whole arm from the wrist down! "Urk…what…what the…" he managed to choke out, as the thing on his neck was somewhat constricting his breathing.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Skeets hovering over his face. "Allow me to break it down for you, Booster," it said. "The moment you threw your fist at Dr. Light, first she sidestepped the attack, then grabbed your wrist and sent her right elbow into your lower left ribcage. From there, while still holding your wrist, she slipped under your arm and behind you, then twisted your wrist while kicking your right foot out from underneath you in the same movement. That forced your whole body to flip, causing you to land on the ground on your back. At this moment Dr. Light is still holding and twisting your arm, and she also has one foot pressed down on the side of your neck just underneath your right jaw. Oh, and by the way, all of that happened in exactly 4.5 seconds."

"O…kay…but I don't think I recall being hit in the ribs…" Booster managed to say.

"Of course not. Your brain would not have had the chance to register that first counterattack, judging from Dr. Light's speed of movement," Skeets replied.

Dr. Light's grip on Booster's wrist remained firm. "Now answer me this, Booster Gold. What was your first mistake?"

Wincing from the ache in his whole arm, Booster tried to shift his neck a little so that the chafing of Dr. Light's boot was at least more bearable. "Uh…warning you out loud before I attacked?"

"No, that was actually your _third_ mistake." Dr. Light stepped down a little harder on his neck, causing him to flinch; if she saw it, she ignored it entirely. "Your _second_ mistake…was to actually agree to try hitting me at all. And your _first_ mistake…was not heeding my advice in the first place to curtail your impatience."

"All right. Got it." Booster sucked in air between his teeth as he felt the heel of Dr. Light's boot digging into his neck.

"Actually, I'm not yet certain you do." Dr. Light's grip on his wrist tightened; this elicited a small yelp of pain from Booster. "I agreed to give you some help in preparing for the sparring match against Green Lantern," she went on. "Therefore, I must make absolutely certain that you know whose role is whose here. Now…who is the teacher?"

"Urgh…you…!" Booster choked out.

"And who is the student?"

"Me…"

"And who leads whom?"

Booster gasped for breath; Dr. Light's foot was really constricting him, and the pain in his twisted arm wasn't making his situation any better. "Teacher…leads student…!"

"And who follows and obeys whom?" Dr. Light eyed him.

"Student…obeys…teacher!" Booster gasped.

"And therefore, that means…?" Dr. Light prompted.

Booster clenched his teeth, doing his utmost best to block out the numbness that was starting to develop in his hand. "I'll…I'll do whatever you tell me…ma'am!"

"Good. That's what I thought, too." At last Dr. Light released Booster's wrist and stepped off his neck. Immediately Booster curled up in the fetal position, holding his sore wrist and coughing as he fought to regain his breath.

"Booster, I believe this is what you humans call 'getting schooled,'" Skeets remarked.

"All right—now will you exercise patience until we're done here and have gotten down to the training room?" Dr. Light asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Booster sighed, defeated.

"Good." Dr. Light nodded. "In that case, let's finish putting away these cleaning tools."

----------

The teleporter's pod glowed bright white for a moment…then the Flash materialized into view. "Hello, Watchtower!" he exclaimed. "Man, it's good to be back up here after a whole day of work, work, work…"

"Good to see you're back with us, Flash," Mr. Terrific called to him from his control platform. "I was beginning to wonder if I'd have to send Superman down to Central City after you."

"Huh? Why's that?" Flash cocked a curious eyebrow.

"Well, he's been up here waiting on you to show up for the last hour and a half or so," Mr. Terrific explained. "Him and Dr. Fate."

"Ooookaaaaayyyy…so where are they at?" Flash wondered.

"Just a second…" Mr. Terrific tapped a few buttons on his platform's keyboard, then held down one with his finger. "Yes, Superman, he's here. Where should he look for you…? Oh, all right. I'll let him know."

Flash looked up expectantly. "So…?"

Mr. Terrific looked back down at him. "Conference room."

"All right, I'm there!" Flash nodded—then a second later was gone in a blur of red.

----------

Ten seconds later found Flash standing outside the doors to the Justice League's conference room. "Okay…here I go!" he announced, stepping toward the doors even as they automatically opened for him.

Inside the conference room, there was a large round table flanked by seven chairs. On the back of one of those chairs, Flash noted with some humor, was his own logo—he'd painted it on sometime after the whole Luthor/Brainiac fiasco. And at this moment, sitting in two of the other chairs, were Superman and Dr. Fate. "Glad you could join us at last, Flash," Superman addressed him. "Please, sit down."

"Yeah, well…I'd have gotten here sooner, but like I told you earlier, Supes, I had to get all my work at my day-job done first," Flash answered as he sat. "And then I had to pay a few people around Central City a visit, like I'd promised. And the Fastest Man Alive always keeps his promises to his most loyal fans!"

"I'm sure," Superman nodded.

Flash then turned and beheld Dr. Fate. "Hey there, Doc Fate, how's it going over in Salem? Hope nobody's started hunting you…"

Whether Dr. Fate was amused or annoyed at the attempted joke, his helmet didn't show it. "Superman stopped by my abode earlier today and asked me to come and speak to you," he explained.

Flash placed his hands on the table. "Well, it must be a real big reason he had for you to be here, and in the conference room at that. After all, usually it's original members only in here…"

Suddenly he paused. "Hey…wait a second…" He swiveled in his chair and leveled an accusing glare at Superman. "This isn't about _that_ again, is it? Because if it is, I am SO out of here!"

"Look, Wally, I'm sorry if you feel imposed upon," Superman said quietly, leaning forward in his seat, "but I simply can't just stand by and let this go unchecked. You came close to disappearing today, just like four years ago…I'm not going to risk it happening again. You're too important to the League for us to lose you."

"And _you're_ taking the whole 'big brother' concept too far," Flash snorted.

"Superman explained to me what happened four years ago, and also what happened today," Dr. Fate stepped in. "As you know, normally I do not make the happenings of the mortal world a major priority—unless, of course, something mystical is involved and my expertise is required to understand or to combat it. With this in mind, had the matter not been deemed serious enough, Superman never would have contacted me. Now, four years ago you came into contact with an extra-dimensional plane you called the 'Speed Force.' What I want to do is determine whether or not that dimensional plane is the same thing that you experienced today, and whether it is detrimental to your existence…if nothing else, it will at least give us all some certainty regarding your welfare in this matter."

Flash sighed. "Well, since Superman went to the trouble of getting you to come out of your tower and come up here, I guess I may as well humor him. So, what're you gonna do, doc? Read my mind? Test my inner energy?"

"No, nothing that complicated—unless it becomes called for," answered Dr. Fate. "For now, I want you to just tell me…in your own words…what you experienced that night. How you felt. What you saw and heard. Everything."

Flash looked at Superman, then back at Dr. Fate. Then, sighing, he leaned back in his chair. "Well…all right. Fine."

Superman and Dr. Fate looked at each other and nodded. Then both looked back at Flash expectantly.

"It's…kinda hard to describe it all in words, to be honest," Flash admitted. "All I know for sure…is that I was staring down Luthor when he was fused with Brainiac…then I just, well, turned and ran. And all I was gonna do was build up enough speed to knock him down and try to get his armor off, and that way we could have an advantage…but then, somehow, I realized it wasn't going to be enough. I was the only one still standing, the only one who could still beat them both. Everyone was counting on me…and I couldn't afford to let any of them down. So…I just started going faster, and faster, and then…" He paused.

"Go on," Dr. Fate encouraged him.

Flash nodded. "Then…the next thing I knew, I could feel my whole body…becoming lighter…and I saw everything around me—it was all standing still, but at the same time it was all going by in a blur, you know? And then…even when I was tearing Brainiac out of Luthor's body, I could feel…almost, like, a calm feeling washing over me…like an afterglow of sorts, you know what I mean?"

"I see," Dr. Fate said thoughtfully. "And then what happened?"

"After that…for a couple of seconds, I could see energy flashing all around my body, like I was a walking power plant," Flash went on. "And then…I saw Superman running to grab me, and then suddenly none of them were there any longer…and I could feel myself, being pulled into, like, a blanket of soft, warm light. And I could hear a voice, too…"

"A voice?" Dr. Fate asked, now very impressed.

"Yeah, a voice…a soft, mom-like voice," Flash explained. "I couldn't tell which direction it was coming from…it was as if it was all around me, echoing or something. And…it was calling to me…telling me to come home…that _that_ was where I belonged."

As he spoke, a small, sad smile came over Flash's face. Both Superman and Dr. Fate noticed it. "And then Shayera Hol and the others were able to reach you in that momentary dimensional tear, and they pulled you back to this side of existence," Dr. Fate said to Flash.

"Yeah, that's it," Flash nodded. "And ever since then, I've been trying my best to watch my speed, or else the same thing could happen again…"

"And it almost did today, when we went up against Cobalt Blue and his lackeys," Superman interrupted. "And you were fighting your hardest not to get sucked into it again."

Flash shook his head. "But you know…it's kinda funny…"

"What is it?" Dr. Fate asked him.

Flash ran a hand over his face and sighed. "Back then…when the others were pulling me back into this world…it was like I couldn't make up my mind. Should I go back, or should I stay? That's what I was asking myself in that moment. And…today, too…the option was right there in front of me: to stay here in this world, where I know Central City and the League need me…or to remain _there,_ where I wouldn't have to fight crime, battle super-villains and risk my life all the time anymore, where I could just…rest. But with one option, I'd be throwing away the best experience I've ever had, and with the other I'd just be selfish. It's confusing."

He looked imploringly at the other two men. "What would you guys do? Which would you choose? To continue an endless fight for other people, while never feeling really like you're complete…or to just put an end to that fight and be at peace, at the cost of other lives?"

Superman and Dr. Fate looked at him as he asked the question, and then looked at each other. There wasn't anything either of them could say in answer to that.

_**CHAPTER 10 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 11 COMING UP!**_

(NOTE TO BE MADE: Dr. Tina McGee is an actual supporting character from the Flash comics, but I had to take liberties with her character for this story since I've never read the actual comics and consequently don't know what sort of person she was. Also, there will be ABSOLUTELY NO MENTION in this story of the affair she and Wally had in the comics, so comic purists, know that from now. And as for Flash's question that was posed to Superman and Dr. Fate…that's something I've been wondering whether Wally ever asked himself in the comics. Something worth thinking about, no?)


	11. Chapter 11

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 11

_**Justice League Watchtower, 7:20 p.m.**_

_CLANK!_

The lights to the training room were switched on rather noisily, flooding the whole area in fluorescent white light. It was a rather large space, with numerous weights set in piles off to one corner, exercise mats spread out here and there, and various pieces of exercise equipment were carefully spaced apart from each other. There were treadmills, weight machines and exercise bicycles, and gymnast poles and rings hanging from the ceiling; along the walls, several staves were hung up.

Booster Gold and Dr. Light entered the room, altered a little for the purpose of their exercise. He was shirtless and minus his gauntlets, as well as carrying a towel and a water bottle; she was clad in a white monk-like robe and was barefoot. Skeets hovered in behind them. "Dr. Light, are you certain Booster will be able to manage your teaching?" it asked.

"What do your sensors indicate?" Dr. Light asked.

"Factoring in your Japanese heritage and the fact that martial arts masters from that country tend to be much stricter for the most part than elsewhere in the world, as well as Booster's stubborn nature…"

Booster growled a little, but held his tongue.

"…and also factoring in the limited time you have to instruct Booster, the chances of this training session actually succeeding may well be 35 percent," Skeets finished.

Dr. Light smirked. "Then I suppose we'll have to work with that 35 percent and hope for the best, won't we?"

"At least those are higher odds than what you gave me for actually beating Green Lantern…" Booster grumbled to Skeets.

"Now, then, Booster!" Dr. Light spoke up. "Let's head over to one of the training mats, shall we?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Booster was immediately attentive.

Skeets managed the equivalent of a chuckle. "Whipped…"

They headed over to one of the bigger training mats closest to the wall, where the space was considerably wide. Booster hung up his towel on the staff-rack and set his water bottle on the ground. "Okay, I'm ready," he announced.

"We will see," Dr. Light replied. "Now, at attention, Booster."

Booster complied, standing upright before her. Nodding, Dr. Light crossed her arms in front of her. "All right, then," she began. "You've already shown an aptitude for offense…but your defense isn't quite as sharp—and that's when I'm countering your attack. Let's see how it is when I'm attacking you head-on!"

Suddenly, she launched forward with a spinning left kick to the head. Somewhat unprepared, Booster managed to duck in time—but as Dr. Light spun around, she raised her right foot and brought it down heel-first onto Booster's shoulder, grounding him. "AGH!" Booster cried as his chin hit the mat.

"Whether the opponent's attacking speed is fast or slow," Dr. Light said coolly, "your reaction time must always be swift. Now, get up."

Booster raised himself on one knee—but as he started to rise, he felt a sudden hard kick to the chest that knocked him down again, this time on his back. "Hey!" he shouted.

"Too slow, Booster!" Dr. Light scolded him. "At this rate, your opponent would be able to pummel you fifty times before you could defend once! In combat, one should NEVER allow one's opponent to have any chance to strike—one's defenses must always be up and the senses aware! Now, get back up!"

Grimacing, Booster flipped back onto his feet—just in time to see Dr. Light coming at him fast, her right hand upraised in a chopping position. Immediately, Booster rolled to her right side, ending up a little bit behind her…but as he stood back up, he felt a sharp blow to the back of his neck that sent him tumbling face-first again. "Gyaa!" he cried out as he landed, hard.

"Let me tell you what your mistake was this time," said Dr. Light, turning to look at him. "You saw my upraised hand and immediately assumed I was going to chop at you by swinging my arm down. Never assume that there is only one way to attack with any given weapon, especially when that weapon is in the hands of a master."

"You treat your hand as a weapon?" Booster asked, somewhat doubtfully, even as he spun his body to face her and jumped back up.

Dr. Light nodded gravely. "Do not assume that weapons are only those things that can be equipped to one's person," she told him. "The most dangerous weapons a warrior can possess are the ones he has equipped from birth—namely, his hands, feet, body and brain. The hands and feet serve the same purpose as a sword and shield: to deliver attacks, and to block attacks from the opponent as necessary. The body serves as a kind of director for hand and foot attacks that you deliver—by shifting your body in one particular direction, for instance, you are better able to parry a strike coming at you from a certain angle. As for the brain, you will know that it sends signals to various parts of the human body so that one can act accordingly…without the brain to send the message to the legs, a person cannot walk; without the brain sending messages to the other internal organs, the heart cannot pump blood, the stomach cannot digest food, and the nervous system cannot detect pain."

"Uh-huh," Booster nodded, trying to get the information to sink in.

"There is another important thing to note regarding the natural weapons of the body," Dr. Light added. "Unlike a sword and shield, which are usually paired together but can also act as both offensive and defensive weapons independent of each other, the natural weapons cannot work out of coordination with each other. Without the body's positioning of proper angles, the hands and feet cannot deliver the proper amount of striking force, nor will they necessarily strike at the intended target. Without the hands and feet to defend, the body will become one big open target. And without the brain directing all of these, then…simply put, the fight is lost before any effort is even put in."

"Okay…" Booster nodded again.

"Hopefully you're a good listener," Dr. Light remarked. "I'm going to put that to the test right now! Let me see if you really were listening to anything I've said to you just now!" And with that, placing her arms in a battle-ready position, she charged at him again.

Narrowing his eyes as Dr. Light punched forward at his chest, Booster sidestepped a little to the left, and she missed completely. Dr. Light responded quickly, bringing her arm around in a backhand attack. Booster put up his right arm, blocking that attack—but as he glanced down momentarily, he caught sight of her free fist coming straight for his ribs! _Uh-oh! Not good!_ his whole body seemed to scream to him.

On impulse, Booster bounced off the mat a little, jumping backwards and causing Dr. Light's incoming fist to miss entirely. In the same movement, though, Dr. Light forcefully raised her knee in yet another attack. Booster saw that one coming, but could do little more than raise his own leg to intercept it, causing her knee to slam right into his thigh. And then…the momentum of the blocked attack, coupled with the fact that Booster's feet were completely off the mat while Dr. Light was just managing to balance herself on the toes of one foot, caused both of them to tumble to the ground!

"Oof!" Booster grunted as he landed on his back on the mat.

"Aaaah!" Dr. Light cried out in the same moment, as she landed right on top of him.

For a long moment they just remained in that position, breathing deeply from the exertion of a few moments ago. Then Dr. Light, raising herself on her hands, looked down at Booster. "Well…it seems you were listening somewhat, after all," she noted. "But nobody gets a full lesson on the first tutoring. That had to have been beginner's luck."

Booster managed to shrug. "Maybe…but it was beginner's luck in my favor."

"Touché," and now Dr. Light smiled.

Booster smiled back—and only then did he notice the position they were in. "So, uh…you gonna get up anytime soon?" he queried.

Dr. Light blinked a full three times before she realized what he was talking about. "Oh! Uh…of course." And she hastily picked herself up, brushing herself off with a great show of dignity. "All right, then, Booster, get up! We still have work to do!"

"Right!" Booster swiftly got up as well.

----------

Elsewhere on the Watchtower…

Flash was in the sickbay, bare-chested and fidgeting while the medics flipped through X-ray shots and medical files. "So…?" he cocked an eyebrow at them.

"Well…we're just about finished here now, Flash," the head medic told him. "But from what the preliminary test results show, your body doesn't seem to have undergone any major change within the last few hours. In fact, the only abnormality we've been able to detect is your body metabolism…and we already know the status of that one, due to the nature of your powers."

Flash nodded in understanding. Ever since he'd first gotten his super-speed, his metabolism had shot up to such a high rate that he constantly had to eat large quantities of food just to keep his energy levels stabilized. "So everything's okay, then?" he asked.

"Yes, pretty much so," the medic answered.

"Well, well, Flash…Superman told me you'd be here."

Flash looked up at the sound of the familiar voice. "Oh, hey there, G.L. What's crackin'?"

"Nothing much, really. Just waiting around to settle a little matter with Booster Gold," Green Lantern replied.

"Booster? What, did you guys have a bet or something?" Flash wondered.

"Not exactly," Lantern admitted. "Guy's got a big inferiority complex. So, I offered to settle things with him down in the training room, once he's finished with his chores around the Watchtower."

"Heh…sounds fun," Flash chuckled. "Just don't be too hard on him, G.L. He's not such a bad guy."

"You can say that—the two of you are cut from the same cloth," Lantern scoffed. "The only real difference is, you have at least a tiny spark of maturity in you."

"Ha, ha," Flash grunted, the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

A brief moment of silence followed. Then Flash sighed. "Uh, listen…about what happened today down in Central City…what Hunter said…"

"Hunter? Oh, you mean the cop that was so against our getting involved in that fight at City Hall today…and the same cop who chewed us out after we beat the Thinker this morning…" Lantern raised an eyebrow. "Since when were you and he on a first-name basis?"

"Hey, c'mon now," Flash protested. "We happen to work at the same place, you know. And besides, it was his idea."

"Well, I don't trust him." Lantern's voice was stern. "I'm gonna let you know that from now. He doesn't strike me as the kind of guy you should be spending any sort of time with. Besides, what do you think he'll do if he finds out he's been working alongside a member of the Justice League all along? I know you've heard the kind of comments he's made about us."

Flash's eyebrows rose at that. "Would you give me some credit, at least? I'm not about to tell him _that_ kind of info about myself!" he argued. "And besides that, sure, he doesn't like costumed people all that much, but he's not a bad cop! Except for that one little detail, he's a pretty swell guy!"

"Uh-huh…and how long have you known him to be able to make that value judgment?" Lantern challenged.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Flash demanded.

"There, see? My point exactly. You DON'T know the guy all that well." Lantern snorted.

"And you do?" Flash asked testily.

All this time the medics had been standing to one side, watching somewhat nervously as the two League members squabbled back and forth. "Um, gentlemen…maybe you'd like to take this elsewhere?" the head medic suggested. "This is the sickbay, after all. There are patients here who need their rest."

Lantern sighed. "It's fine. I'm done here anyway." And he turned on his heel and began to march out—then he paused at the doorway. "You're too trusting of this guy, man," he flung over his shoulder at Flash. "Just make sure that doesn't get you killed one day." And then with that, he was gone.

Flash scowled at the now-empty doorway. "Geez…"

----------

_**Blacksmith Corporation, Central City, 7:35 p.m.**_

The gigantic corporation building was located close to the center of Central City's downtown complex. Standing a little distance apart from the other buildings in the complex, it stood approximately twenty-five stories tall and boasted an entrance to an underground parking lot. On the face of the building, printed out in big silver letters, was the word _BLACKSMITH,_ in full caps. Underneath that, in somewhat smaller print but still in full caps, was the word _CORPORATION._ Compared to the other buildings nearby, this one seemed to touch the moon itself as it shone over Central City, so majestic it seemed.

On the twenty-fifth story, Amunet Black looked out her office window at the streets below. Her office was an impressive one: sea-green carpet all around the floor, pale tiled walls and ceiling, exotic-looking plants set in pots at each corner of the room, and a big cedar-cut desk on which papers and books were neatly stacked. On the walls some very beautiful paintings were hung; a large couch stood by one wall; and from the ceiling a giant fluorescent bulb shone, illuminating every single thing.

"Such a wondrous sight," Ms. Black sighed, taking in the view of Central City from her vantage point. "So beautiful, indeed…"

Just then there was a knock at the door. "Enter!" she called, without turning from the window.

A moment later the door opened, and standing there was a handsome young man dressed in butler's attire. "My apologies for disturbing you, milady," he spoke in a respectful voice. "The preparations have just been completed. The Protector equipment will be transported to the Central City Police Department first thing tomorrow morning. Also, the Mayor's office just called—she is inviting you to lunch with her at the _Goût Bienfaisant. _Reservations have already been made for 12:30 tomorrow."

Then his voice took a low tone. "And, on a more low-key note, milady…"

At that Ms. Black turned her head slightly. "Yes?"

The butler nodded meaningfully. "Our technicians have just completed the 'Razer' prototype, with all the specifications you emphasized. The expert who will be giving the field test is booked to arrive on the 8:00 flight tonight."

"I see…" Ms. Black nodded. "And the clients?"

"They are currently on standby with the payment," the butler answered. "The arrangements have already been made to have the funds wired into a dummy account…all that will be required from there is your go-ahead, milady."

Ms. Black nodded again. "Very well, then. Have the technicians perform one final series of checks on the prototype, to eliminate all possible flaws that may be present. Also, ensure that the room for our…guest…is ready for when he arrives. And call back all the clients and assure them that they will certainly see the merchandise in action tomorrow…and that they will by no means be disappointed."

"Understood." The butler bowed slightly but respectfully. "Will that be all, milady?"

"Yes, thank you." Ms. Black then frowned. "No—on second thought, there is one other thing I would ask of you. Have the chef prepare a meal for me and for our guest. Lamb, medium-rare…a Greek salad…mashed potatoes…white rice with red beans…and a bottle of '94 red wine."

"Understood, milady," and the butler bowed again. "I shall inform the chef at once." And then he turned and headed out the door, leaving Ms. Black to stare out the window once again with a slight smirk on her face.

----------

_**Central City Police Department, 7:40 p.m.**_

Hunter sat at his desk in his office, his cane leaning on the wall nearby. Piles of paperwork lay in front of him; close by on the desk were a cup of coffee and a bag of sweets. Somewhat absently, he reached into the bag and pulled out a cinnamon roll, covered with icy frosting. Biting into the treat, he glanced down at the sheet of paper in his other hand.

_Subject name: MICHAEL AMAR. Alias(es): MURMUR. Past occupation(s): SURGEON. Current status: INCARCERATED IN IRON HEIGHTS PENITENTIARY._

His eyes narrowed as he read on. _Criminally and psychologically insane. Was responsible for numerous serial murders throughout Central and Keystone Cities. All victims of subject's crimes were found heavily mutilated. Strongly recommended to keep in isolation, with as minimal contact as possible._

Mechanically, Hunter dipped the roll into his coffee and bit it. Chewing slowly, he scowled as he read through the file again. "Just like back then," he muttered. "Just like when HE was committing his crimes…"

_----------_

"_Put the gun down!" the policeman ordered, even as his own gun was pointed right at the man standing on the doorstep. "Don't make us have to shoot you!"_

_Standing off to one side, Hunter looked from the police squad to their target and back again. The other person in question was clad in a yellow raincoat, even though it wasn't raining outside, and underneath that he wore a white shirt and blue jeans, both stained crimson. On his face he wore a sinister black mask. "You'll never take me alive!" the man roared, raising his gun._

"_NO!" Hunter heard himself scream, even as the cops' guns began blazing…_

----------

Tossing the file to one side, Hunter pushed the rest of the cinnamon roll into his mouth. Dutifully chewing, he reached for another file and leafed through it. And as he read this one, he reached for his coffee and took a few sips. And as he read, his scowl became even darker than before.

_Subject name: JAMES JESSE. Alias(es): THE TRICKSTER. Past occupation(s): CIRCUS PERFORMER. Current status: INMATE OF KEYSTONE MENTAL HOME. Moderately imbalanced. Suffers frequent delusions of super-villainy. Possesses a child-like mentality interspersed with general knowledge. Appears aware of psychoses on occasion; seeks treatment if encouraged. Chances of adaptation to normal life are fair, good with continued therapy._

Hunter's grip on the coffee cup tightened as he read this one. "They honestly think this guy can be integrated back into society?" he growled. "He's just faking it all…like HE did…"

----------

_Hunter was sitting on the ground near two fallen bodies, both covered in white sheets. Ruefully, he glanced down at a photo in his hand—that of a man in clown makeup. Standing to one side, even as the paramedics did their work, he caught sight of a few others, all glaring at him._

"_I didn't know," he said softly. "I swear, I didn't know…"_

_But that wasn't enough to stop the people in question from turning their backs on him. And as he looked at this action in dismay, he reached forward for them—and flinched as a sharp pain shot through one of his legs. And the photo slipped from his fingers…and fluttered onto the covered face of one of the fallen bodies…_

----------

"Costumed freaks," Hunter growled. "It's always the costumed freaks…they always wreck everything…always get away with ruining everything…"

His eye suddenly seemed to catch something on the other side of the room. Setting his coffee and the file down on the desk, he reached for his cane and then gingerly stood up. He hobbled over to the far wall, his gaze all the while never leaving the thing he was looking at. And then…he found himself face-to-face with the item in question, and an even uglier snarl than before found its way onto his mouth.

_And yet everybody's so ready to trust these menaces…and especially THIS one…_

Right there on the wall was a clipping from the local newspaper, the _Central City Chronicle, _with the big bold headline: _Flash Museum Opens Tomorrow!_ Below that caption was a photo of a grinning Flash, with his eponymous museum in the background blaring the lightning bolt logo. Hunter stared…and stared…and stared…and the longer he stared, the bigger the vein bulged in his forehead.

"You think you're better than us, huh?" he growled at the picture. "What makes you so great, huh? What makes you so great that you deserve your own museum? What makes you better than any of us, you pest? Huh?"

His grip on his cane tightened some more as he continued to talk to the picture, as though it could hear and respond to him. "Trying to steal our thunder, are you? Trying to make yourself look good and us look useless…who do you think you are, eh? A god? Well, guess what, punk? You might have everybody else in Central City fooled…but you can't fool ME!"

With that he pulled his free hand back and clenched it into a fist—and slammed that fist against Flash's picture with a solid THUMP as it hit the wall. "Just you wait, you freak…just you wait…" Hunter whispered, his breathing now raspy. "One of these days…I'll find out who you really are…and what you're really planning…and then I'm going to expose you to everyone as the sham and the fraud you truly are! And then…I hope I get to be the one to slap the cuffs on you!"

A sudden loud knocking at his office door caught his attention. "Yes?" he barked, straightening himself up.

The door then opened, revealing a puzzled Morillo. "Hey, Zolomon, you all right?" he queried. "I thought I heard banging, or something…"

Hunter shook his head. "No…no, it's nothing," he told the other officer. "I was just going to retrieve something over here, and I nearly slipped. That's all."

"Oh…" Morillo shrugged. Then his eyes roved over to the bag of treats on Hunter's desk. "Say, uh, you don't mind if I help myself to your sweets there?"

"No, help yourself," Hunter invited.

Nodding, Morillo walked over to the desk and reached into the bag, pulling out a big fat donut. As he did, he glanced at the files Hunter had been looking at. "Geez, man, you're scaring me with your obsession over these guys," he jokingly remarked.

Hunter shrugged. "It's what I do. I'm the meta-human profiler, after all."

"Well, just make sure you don't lose any sleep over it. Even coffee can only do so much, you know." Morillo turned and headed for the door. "Well, I'm going home. See you tomorrow, Zolomon."

"Sure, sure," Hunter waved him off.

Morillo began munching on the donut, closing the door behind him as he left. Alone again, Hunter's look darkened. "You have NO idea how much I've lost over these kinds of punks…so much more than sleep…" he whispered ominously.

_**CHAPTER 11 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 12 COMING UP!**_


	12. Chapter 12

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 12

_**Central City Airport, 8:00 p.m.**_

Two men in brown suits stood near the entrance of the airport's main lobby, keeping a sharp eye out. Around them, there was not a very big crowd coming or going, as the airport only catered to commercial flights; but the few security guards on duty were just as vigilant as if they were at an international facility. Travelers were either hurrying to the check-in desk with their luggage, or emerging from the arrival lobby after having sat in their airplane seats for a few hours. As the travelers passed by the two suits, their chatter was mixed up with the general noise of the main lobby and the occasional P.A. announcement…but the two men paid no mind to the noises surrounding them, only keeping their eyes peeled and scanning the crowd.

"Any sign of him yet?" one asked presently.

"Nada," the other answered. "He's got to be here by now, though. It won't be hard to spot him in this crowd."

Suddenly he stiffened. "Ah…there he is now."

There was a group of people approaching the exit…and standing out amongst them was a rather tall, broad-shouldered man. He was clad in a gray overcoat, a black fedora and semi-dark sunglasses, and he was carrying only one piece of luggage, a brown traveling bag. He had his head down slightly, so that both the fedora and the shades obscured most of the upper half of his face. The lower half was partially concealed by the big collar of the overcoat, leaving only the nose truly visible. Now, as he got closer to the exit, he managed to ease himself out of the crowd and headed over to the suited men.

"Welcome to Central City, sir," one of the suits addressed him. "Our employer has been awaiting your arrival here tonight."

"Right," the mystery man replied in a deep, raspy voice.

"Well, let's get going, then. We don't want to keep Ms. Black waiting," the other suit spoke up.

"Hmmm…" the mystery man nodded briefly.

----------

_**Justice League Watchtower, 8:05 p.m.**_

Green Lantern was standing in the hallway, staring out the window at the stars with a very foul look on his face. So absorbed in his own thoughts was he that he barely took note of the approaching footsteps. Until, that is, he heard a familiar voice behind him. "Pretty nice view out, huh?"

He turned, finding himself face-to-face with Superman. "Oh, hey. What brought you along this end?"

"Just felt like taking a little walk," Superman shrugged. "You found Flash at sickbay, like I told you?"

Lantern shrugged. "Yeah, I did," he answered. "From what I was able to hear when I got there, they haven't found anything wrong with him."

Superman cocked an eyebrow. "I…take it that's not all that went down, is it?"

"Nope," Lantern admitted. "Simply put, Wally's being a moron."

The Man of Steel chuckled at that as he stood beside Lantern and looked out the window. "And what makes you call him that, I wonder? Has he stuffed himself on three dozen burgers again?"

"I'm serious, man—this is more than just him being himself," Lantern growled. "It has to do with what went down in Central City today…with a certain cop."

"A Central City cop?" Superman asked, now interested.

"Yeah…" Lantern looked out the window again. "This morning Flash, Dr. Light and I fought the Thinker, and we beat him…then a little while after that, that ungrateful cop came along saying how we shouldn't have butted in. Then, a couple hours ago, Flash and I were at Central City Hall fighting off some more of his enemies…and that cop was there again, insulting us and acting as if we had the plague."

"And what's so strange about that? We've had to deal with anti-Leaguism before," Superman told him.

"I know that," Lantern answered. "What's got me worried is, Wally's only had about a day's worth of contact with this guy and already they're acting all buddy-like. But if Wally slips up…"

"Nah, I don't see him doing that," Superman answered. "Wally's a whole lot more responsible than that. And if what you're saying about this cop is right, then Wally'll have to be even more careful protecting his secret identity."

"Having to be and actually being isn't the same thing," Lantern grunted.

"At least give him the benefit of the doubt here, John," Superman said gently. "And in any case, you can't fault that cop too much—even after the whole Cadmus incident, there are still some folks who fear and hate us. You know this. Flash knows it too. Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out that quite a few people in Central City distrust him because of who he is and what he can do."

"But would he be able to deal with it? Especially in a city that's dedicated a museum in his honor," Lantern pointed out.

"We can't protect Wally from everything, G.L.—nor should we," Superman replied.

Suddenly Lantern's comm.-link beeped, interrupting the discussion. "Yes?" he put a finger to his ear to touch the device.

"This is Dr. Light," the response came through. "Booster Gold is down here in the training room, and he's waiting for you. Just thought I'd let you know."

"All right, I'll be right down," Lantern answered. Then he turned to Superman. "Looks like it's time for me and Booster to—ahem—settle our differences."

"Okay…I'm coming to watch," Superman nodded. And with that the two men turned and headed off down the corridor.

----------

A few minutes later, down in the training room…

Booster Gold, still shirtless and minus his gauntlets, was busily jogging on the spot while taking the occasional sip from his water bottle. Off to the side, Dr. Light was back in her costume, currently fixing her headpiece into place. Skeets floated near her. "So, Dr. Light, it would seem that the brief time you have spent training Booster has yielded some results," it remarked in its electronic voice. "The success rate went up to 45 percent during the exercise. Very impressive…considering what you had to work with."

"I did not mind in the least, Skeets," Dr. Light replied good-naturedly. "Where he's from, Booster used to be a security guard, yes? That would mean he has had some basic training in unarmed combat, at least. This was simply a refresher course for him, as far as I'm concerned."

"Well, he certainly needed it," said Skeets. "His reliance on his weapons since coming here to the 21st century was approximately 81 percent, while his own memory of his basic training was only 27 percent. This was just what he needed."

"Hey, Skeets!" Booster called to his robotic companion. "What're my chances for actually beating Green Lantern now, huh? Up from your original 15 percent, I guess?"

"Calculating…" Skeets made a sort of internal whirring noise for a moment. "Factoring in all variables, Booster, your chances have indeed gone up…to 15.5 percent."

"Oh, thanks a lot!" Booster snapped, very agitated.

"Never mind, Booster," Dr. Light said warmly. "The true test will be during the actual sparring session. Then we can see whether you've retained anything of what I've shown you."

"Don't worry, Doc," Booster chuckled. "I'll definitely beat Lantern—and what I've learned from you is gonna be a real big help!"

Dr. Light frowned a little, however. "Just remember the fundamentals of what I said before, Booster," she warned him. "The brain works in coordination with the hands, feet and body. Meaning, if you lose your temper at any time, you will lose the battle as well. A level-headed warrior always achieves much more than a hot-blooded one. And Green Lantern has enough experience to be able to keep a level head despite the situation he is faced with. Remember that."

"Yeah, got it," Booster nodded, and took another swig from his water bottle.

Just then the training room doors slid open, catching their attention…and in walked Green Lantern and Superman. "Here I am, folks," Lantern announced. "So, Booster, ready to have your butt handed to you?"

"That's my line," Booster answered with an edge in his voice.

"Well, whatever. Let's just get this over with," Lantern shrugged. "Now…as agreed, we won't use any of our regular weapons for this. So…"

As they all watched, Lantern pulled off his ring, then turned and handed it to Superman. "Could you hang on to this for a couple of minutes? This shouldn't take too long."

"Just remember—go easy on the guy," Superman chuckled.

Nodding, Lantern walked onto the mat, where Booster was already waiting for him. "So, Booster…you ready for this?" he asked.

"Am I ready, he asks?" Booster scoffed and set his water bottle down to one side. "Man, I was BORN ready!"

"Well, we'll see about that," Lantern answered.

Then, as the others watched, Lantern put himself into a boxing stance, and Booster did likewise. Superman glanced at Dr. Light. "Did Booster invite you to watch all this?" he asked in a low voice.

"Actually, I decided for myself to come and see this," Dr. Light replied. "And personally, I have a pretty good feeling that Booster's performance is going to be better than expected…"

"Huh? Why do you say that?" Superman wondered.

"Let's just watch and see," and Dr. Light smiled.

Slowly, Lantern and Booster began to circle each other, watching each other carefully. "Sure you don't want to back out now, while you're still without bruises?" Lantern queried.

"Oh, I'm not so worried about myself," Booster replied. "But you better know that you're not getting out of this unmarked."

"Really, now?" Lantern raised an eyebrow. "You really sound like you mean business."

"I do." Booster's brow furrowed a little. "Now are we going to do this, or are we just going to keep talking and circling each other?"

Lantern allowed himself a small chuckle. "Actually, I'm waiting on you to make the first move."

"Well…in that case, keep waiting. I'm smarter than that." Booster's fists tightened.

"Sorry, but I've got other things to do!" Lantern suddenly launched forward with a swinging right to Booster's face—but Booster blocked that attack, countering with a swift right hook of his own. Lantern's left hand came up at that moment, however, catching Booster's fist in his palm, before he himself launched his upper body forward in a head-butt that slammed into Booster's face and caused him to stagger backwards from the impact.

Booster shook his head to clear it—and then his upper body lurched forward as Lantern's fist slammed into his midsection. Unprepared, he had no time to react as Lantern shoved him headfirst to the ground. "So, ready to call it quits now?" Lantern asked.

Wiping his mouth clean of the saliva that had inadvertently spilled, Booster shook his head. "Are you kidding? I'm just getting warmed up!"

"Well, all right, then," Lantern shrugged. "Just don't say I didn't give you a chance to save your skin."

Booster quickly picked himself back up, readying himself in a fighting stance again. "Bring it!"

Shaking his head, Lantern charged forward again, drawing his right fist back for another blow—but this time, instead of swinging that fist, he jabbed forward with his left in a very swift move. Booster took the hit to his face, and his head jerked back from the impact…but in that moment he quickly reached up with one hand, grabbing Lantern's wrist! "Huh?" Lantern's eyes widened—and then Booster sent three hard and fast blows, one after another, into the other man's face before jumping back himself.

Lantern put a hand over his nose and mouth, wincing a little at the sudden tenderness he felt there. "Ugh…all right, congrats on getting in a few lucky shots, I guess," he muttered.

"Lucky or not, they're still shots," Booster quipped.

Setting himself into another stance, Lantern narrowed his eyes as he studied Booster. Then, carefully and ever so slowly, he began to inch forward, little by little, keeping his arms up defensively. For his part, Booster stood his ground with his own arms up, watching Lantern with a good degree of suspicion. _Okay…what's he going to do next?_

Suddenly Lantern made a punching motion with his left fist, toward Booster's ribs. Seeing the punch coming, Booster made to block—only to see Lantern's fist stop just short of actually connecting. "What the—" but before Booster could finish the statement, he suddenly saw the whole world spin as Lantern's other fist slammed into his jaw. Not to be outdone, though, Booster spun his whole body with the momentum of the hit and brought his right arm around in a backhand punch that leaned Lantern's head to the left.

Recovering from the blow, Lantern tentatively put a hand to his mouth, noting that his lip had been split a little. "Is that all? My old landlady could hit harder than that!" he announced.

"Ha! Like you're going to get to me with something that clichéd!" Booster snorted, bouncing a little on the spot even as he remained in his fighting stance.

Lantern smirked. "And who said I was giving a cliché?" he replied.

Making a face, Booster hopped forward and thrust one foot toward Lantern's chest. Seeing the kick coming, Lantern swiftly grabbed Booster's ankle with both hands, at the same time stepping a little to one side so that Booster's heel only slightly grazed his chest. Hopping on his other foot to maintain balance, Booster attempted to launch himself upward on that foot to give a second kick to Lantern's head—but Lantern blocked that incoming kick with one hand, while still holding on to Booster's other ankle with his other hand!

"Whoa!" Booster cried out as he felt his upper body rapidly swinging upside down. In desperation, he pushed his hands toward the mat, catching himself in the nick of time. However, he was unable to prevent Lantern's sharp kick to his rear end, sending him flipping over and onto his stomach on the ground. "Okay…that sucked…"

"Give it up, man…you did pretty good, but you can't beat me," Lantern admonished him.

"Says who?" Booster demanded, pulling himself to his feet.

On the sidelines, Dr. Light turned to Superman. "So, what do you think so far?"

"I gotta admit, Booster's doing pretty great holding his own against G.L.," Superman remarked.

"Indeed," Skeets added its input. "Even so, Booster's chances of absolute victory still remain at a slim percentage. The Green Lantern has the training of his Green Lantern Corps, plus the time he spent in the Earth Marines, to draw upon for this fight. On the other hand, Booster's only real combat experience comes from his training as a security guard in 2462 and his time as a member of the Justice League here in the 21st century, not to mention the short time he spent down here practicing with Dr. Light."

"Practicing?" Superman's eyebrows rose as he looked at Dr. Light. "You never mentioned that you and he were practicing before G.L. and I came along…"

"You never asked," Dr. Light responded calmly.

Lantern glanced over at her. "I see…so that explains how he's been able to stay in this for this long. Well, sorry, Doc, but even your tutoring isn't going to make one bit of difference—he still won't be able to win."

"Let's find out, eh?" Booster challenged. "This match is still on!"

With that he dashed toward Lantern, drawing his right arm back for a punch while keeping his left arm in front of his torso as a shield. Seeing him approach in this way, Lantern braced himself, pulling his right foot back, and…

BAM!

Moments later Booster was curled up into a ball on the ground, his mouth contorted in agony, his hands and knees tightly pressed up against a sensitive spot. "Aaaagh…that was…a cheap shot!" he squeaked out in a very high-pitched voice.

"Cheap or not, it's still a shot," Lantern replied with a straight face. "And this match is done."

Dr. Light swiftly crossed over to where Booster lay curled up on the ground. "Booster, are you all right?" she asked, real concern on her face.

"Do I look all right to you?" Booster whimpered, still in the same high-pitched voice.

"Uh…maybe we should take you to see the medic," Superman suggested.

"No—that won't be necessary," Lantern cut in. "I didn't kick him _that_ hard. He just needs a few minutes, then he'll be able to walk on his own."

"Are you sure? It doesn't seem that way from the way he's curled up like this," Dr. Light said doubtfully.

"What Green Lantern says has merit," Skeets spoke up. "Based on the speed at which he delivered his kick relative to the speed at which Booster charged into it, there should not have been enough force to debilitate Booster for more than a few minutes at best. Booster may feel pain now, but it should perhaps not last much longer now."

"You can talk…you're a robot!" Booster spat at him, his voice a little stronger now.

"Easy there, Booster," Dr. Light urged him. "Do you think you can stand now? Try."

Booster pressed a hand to the ground and attempted to raise himself—and grimaced. "Hey, don't overdo it," Superman cautioned him. "C'mon, I'll take you to see the medic…"

"No, I'll take him," Dr. Light interrupted. "Here, Booster, just lean on me."

Still wincing somewhat, Booster managed to wrap his arm around Dr. Light's neck, even as her body glowed in white light energy and she managed to pick him up. Then she floated out of the room, Skeets following close behind. Watching their exit, Superman turned to Lantern. "Did you really have to rely on _that?"_ he asked, his voice holding a note of disapproval.

"My bad," Lantern answered, a little sheepishly. "Guess I went overboard there, huh?"

"Yeah, you did." Superman nodded gravely. "Tell the truth, John. How'd he do?"

Lantern shrugged. "He's got potential," he replied. "Just give him a couple more years of serious training, and he'll actually be able to stand on my level in hand-to-hand."

"Maybe we should ask Batman to train him," Superman suggested, now with a small smirk creeping on his mouth.

"Not likely to happen," Lantern shook his head. "Oh…my ring?"

"Right. Here." Superman handed the ring back. "So, what're you going to do, now that this has been dealt with?"

"Well…I don't know, really," Lantern admitted.

"Here's what I think," Superman suggested. "Maybe you should find Flash and talk to him again. We have to let him know that we're behind him no matter what—especially with this Speed Force thing that's come up again."

"Wasn't Dr. Fate supposed to deal with that?" Lantern wondered.

"He and I had a chat with Flash about it an hour or so ago," Superman answered. "Right after that, Fate left—said he was going to do a little research. But the important thing is that Flash should know we've got his back."

"All right," Lantern agreed. "I'll go look for him, then. I just hope he hasn't left the Watchtower already."

----------

"How do you feel, Booster?" Dr. Light asked. She was still carrying Booster in her arms and floating rapidly down the hallway.

"A little better," Booster admitted. "Maybe you could put me down now, though. It's real embarrassing to have you carry me like this—everybody's looking."

"Nonsense," Dr. Light replied. "We've only passed a dozen or so people so far."

"I should perhaps explain Booster's embarrassment," Skeets spoke up as it floated close by. "Historically and traditionally, it is expected that men should be the ones to carry women in their arms—not the other way around."

"Thank you, Skeets, but that explanation wasn't necessary," Booster growled at the robot.

"Well, you have a legitimate reason for me carrying you instead of the reverse," Dr. Light reminded him. "You are injured, and I'm taking you to the sickbay to see the medic. That takes the sting out of your being embarrassed even a little bit, no?"

"I guess…" Booster now looked more thoughtful. "Even with your coaching, I couldn't beat Green Lantern…"

"Were you really expecting instant success?" Dr. Light eyed him. "Listen, Booster. A man who has only had minimal training in a martial art cannot be logically expected to defeat a fighter who has had twice as much training. Even with what advice I have given you, you still wouldn't have been able to beat the Green Lantern as easily as that."

Booster stared sharply at her. "If you knew that all along, then why…"

"Why did I help you anyway?" Dr. Light asked. "Like I told you at the outset, I had my reasons." And here she allowed herself an enigmatic smile, even as Booster looked at her in puzzlement.

----------

_**Blacksmith Corporation, Central City, 8:30 p.m.**_

Amunet Black was now seated at an ornately-decorated table, in a dimly-lit room illuminated only by candles and a single bulb shining overhead. The candles, ten in total, were set in a candelabrum on the table. Also on the table were huge containers with various foods: one dish, bigger than the rest, had lamb chop cuts in it; there was also a bowl with Greek salad; another bowl held mashed potatoes; yet another had rice with red beans; and in the midst of these was a huge bottle of wine. Evidently, this was all meant as a banquet for many people—and yet there was only one other person at the table with Ms. Black, the mysterious man she had sent for.

"I trust the food is to your liking?" Ms. Black asked her visitor.

The mystery man was busily eating away at the huge portions of food on his plate. He paused and took a sip from his wine glass. "It's good, real good," he replied, speaking in the same deep, raspy voice from before. "You've got the best cooks out of all the folks who've ever hired me."

"Why, thank you. Eat as much as you like; there's plenty more where this came from." Ms. Black intertwined her fingers underneath her chin and smiled.

"I just wanna let you know, I'm not gonna be coming cheap for this job you want me to do," the man told her, pausing to push his fork—mixed with lamb and mashed potatoes—into his mouth.

"Of course not," Ms. Black replied. "Perform this demonstration, and I will reward you greatly for your trouble. No price is too high."

"Good." The man then smiled; he held his head up, revealing eyes black as night. "Just one other question…"

"Yes?" Ms. Black looked at him expectantly.

The man smirked. "I've been hearing a lot about the so-called protector of Central City…"

"The Flash?" Ms. Black's smile grew a little wider and her eyes narrowed. "If you can…include him…in your demonstration, I will certainly pay you extra for the trouble."

Now the man truly grinned. "Nah, never mind about the extra cost. I'll do that for free. I've been wanting to smash him for a long time, anyway."

"I see. Well, thank you for the consideration." Ms. Black nodded at her visitor. "Go ahead now, eat up; you're going to have a busy day tomorrow."

_**CHAPTER 12 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 13 COMING UP!**_


	13. Chapter 13

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 13

_**Justice League Watchtower, 8:45 p.m.**_

The doors to the monitor room slid open, and Green Lantern walked in, looking around. "Hmmm…where IS he…?"

At the control panel, Mr. Terrific turned around. "I assume you're looking for Flash, G.L.?"

"Yeah, that's right," Lantern acknowledged. "But…how'd you know?"

"I beamed him back to Central City a couple of minutes ago," Mr. Terrific explained. "He was grumbling about you the whole time…called you a, um, 'paranoid mother-hen.'"

Lantern sighed. "I guess it's safe to assume he won't be talking to me for a little while…"

"What happened? You two have a fight or something?" Mr. Terrific inquired.

"Yeah, I guess," Lantern shrugged. "Remember that cop Dr. Light was having problems with in Central City this morning? Seems he and Wally are hitting it off pretty good now."

"Ah." Mr. Terrific nodded, understanding. "Does he know that Wally and Flash are…?"

"No—and that's what's got me worried." Lantern shook his head. "He's no fan of the Justice League, or of any costumed heroes _or_ villains. If he finds out Wally's secret identity, who knows what he might do?"

Mr. Terrific studied him. "You don't think Flash will really reveal himself to this guy, do you?"

"I don't think so, but he trusts that cop too much as it is—and they barely even know each other," Lantern protested.

Mr. Terrific frowned in consideration. "Hmmm…all right, G.L., how about this? I can probably arrange to run a little background check on this cop…"

Lantern's eyes widened. "You'd actually do that?"

"Sure, why not? If it'll set your mind at ease, then I don't have a problem. Besides, it's not like I have much else to do these days, what with the extended League taking care of everything planet-side," and Mr. Terrific shrugged.

"Not even the crosswords?" Lantern gave him a knowing look.

"Did today's, yesterday's, and the ones from the day before yesterday," Mr. Terrific told him. "And all of them in black-ink pen, on the first try. And they were all too easy."

"Well, _you_ can say that—crosswords are like nothing to you," Lantern muttered.

"Uh-huh," Mr. Terrific shrugged. "Oh, by the way, have you had your match-up with Booster yet?"

"Just did," Lantern answered. "He wasn't too bad, actually…he'd gotten a little help from Dr. Light."

"Oh, Dr. Light was helping him out?" Mr. Terrific asked. "Didn't see that one coming…but then again, I guess _somebody_ would've had to give him a hand."

"Uh-huh," Lantern nodded. "Anyhow, could you beam me down to Earth? I gotta get home before Mari chews me out for being late again. She's cooking dinner tonight."

"Ah," and Mr. Terrific nodded again. "Well, all right, then. I'll look into the cop like I said…Hunter Zolomon, right? From the Meta-Human Crimes Division?"

"Yeah, that's him, I think," Lantern nodded. "Thanks, Terrific."

"Hey, it's what I'm here for," Mr. Terrific replied, even as Lantern flew down to the teleporting pods.

----------

_**Wally West's Apartment, Central City, 9:00 p.m.**_

Wally lay on his bed, clad only in a pair of jeans, staring up at the ceiling. A few feet away, the television was blaring with the noises of an action flick; but his attention only barely registered what was happening on the TV. He'd seen the movie plenty of times before, and could recall the plot in his head from start to finish. His legs were hanging over the edge of the bed; absently, he began to kick them up and down, simultaneously.

_BBBBRNNNG! BBBBRNNNG!_

The ringing of the telephone suddenly caught his attention—but only briefly. Shrugging, he resumed staring at the ceiling even as the phone's ringing and the noise from the TV overlapped. After a moment, though, the answering machine beeped, and Wally's voice message kicked in. "Hey there, you've reached the abode of the great Wally West. Unfortunately, His Majesty isn't in right now, so just leave a message and he'll get back to you when he deems it appropriate."

Wally chuckled as the answering machine beeped again; that message certainly made him sound important, he felt.

"Hey, Wally. It's me, John. Uh, listen, I just wanna talk. About earlier."

Hearing the familiar voice of the Lantern, Wally glanced over at the answering machine; his eyes narrowed as he craned his head to the side.

"Come on, Wally, pick up. I know you're there." A moment's silence from the answering machine, followed by a sigh. "Okay, look, you don't have to pick up. Just at least hear me out, huh? What I said to you before…about that Hunter guy…I guess it came out wrong. I just want you to be careful and watch yourself, that's all…"

"And he also wants to say he's sorry! Don't you, John?" a female voice interrupted on the answering machine.

"Wha—Mari!"

Now Wally couldn't help smirking as he listened to the woman's voice in the background. "Come on, John! Surely you can at least be man enough to say it, right? It takes a lot of courage to apologize—a whole lot more than it takes for you to fight Sinestro, I'm sure!"

"Aw, geez…" Lantern's voice became louder again; he'd likely been covering the mouthpiece on his end during the outburst just now. "Yeah, you guessed right, buddy; I'm at Vixen's place. She'd invited me over for dinner, and…"

"John! Say it, or it's the couch for you tonight!"

Now Wally had to fight to stifle his laughter as he pictured Lantern's grimace at that moment. Then the other man's voice emerged on the answering machine again. "Okay, I'm sorry I jumped the gun on the Watchtower. It's your right to make friends with whoever you want—I can't stop you there." Another brief pause. "Just…at least think about what I said, huh? And take care of yourself. Well…see you later, man."

And with that, the line went dead.

Wally swiftly bounded out of bed and headed over to the answering machine. "Better keep a copy of this tape for blackmail later," he chuckled.

----------

_**Salem, Massachusetts 9:10 p.m.**_

The moon shone high in the sky over the meadow where Dr. Fate's tower currently stood in plain sight. The moonlight was rather bright, able to cast some very ominous-looking shadows from the trees surrounding the meadow while simultaneously providing a wonderful lustrous glow to the tower's stone outline. No breeze blew to disturb the vegetation; only the sound of crickets chirping in the distance broke the otherwise serene stillness of the night.

And inside the tower itself…

Dr. Fate sat at a table in his immense study, scanning through a large tome. On the table were several other books, some as big and thick as stone slabs, and scrolls both opened and unopened. He turned the pages of the tome he was reading very slowly, scanning each page as studiously as possible. "Interesting…"

"What is, my husband?" a gentle female voice spoke up behind him. Turning in his chair, he beheld a beautiful dark-haired woman watching him from the doorway of the study. "You have been immersed in your books ever since you returned," she went on. "Is there a new threat of some sort that you're preparing for, perhaps?"

Dr. Fate shook his head. "No, Inza," he replied. "I am merely doing some research on Superman's behalf."

"On what subject matter, Dr. Fate?" another voice asked. Then the new speaker emerged from behind Inza—a tall, gold-skinned figure with only glowing red eyes prominent in the face. "Perhaps I can render assistance…after all, I am able to process information at a much faster rate than humans."

"Well, that is true, considering the fact that you are an android built for just that purpose, Amazo," Dr. Fate replied. "Very well, then. Both of you, please, join me."

Inza and Amazo approached the table. "So, what exactly _are_ you looking for?" Inza inquired, picking up one of the unopened books.

Dr. Fate turned his attention back to the book he'd been reading. "A while back, during one of the Justice League's missions," he explained, "the Flash was able to come in contact with an extra-dimensional energy force…referred to as the 'Speed Force.' However, he was very nearly taken away from this plane of existence by that same energy force…and the very same thing nearly happened again earlier today. As a result, Superman has asked me to uncover whatever information I can about this Speed Force, and how it may benefit or detriment the Flash's well-being."

"I see," said Inza. "And have you made any headway as yet?"

"Very little, I'm afraid," Dr. Fate admitted. "I have read through most of the contemporary mythological tales of beings who were swift of foot, or were granted great speed by the gods themselves, but nothing referring to any Speed Force."

Amazo seemed to consider. "Perhaps, Dr. Fate, the Speed Force may be known by another name," he suggested.

"Hmmm…that is certainly a possibility," Dr. Fate reasoned. "However, I am not yet ready to throw out the idea that the Speed Force may be called just that."

"My dear, have you read through all of these books here so far?" Inza asked, waving a hand over the books currently on the table.

"Yes, I have," Dr. Fate nodded. "This one that I have here is the very last one. Perhaps you could search the bookshelves and scroll archives for any further information…?"

"I will do that at once," Amazo replied, walking over to the nearest shelf and glancing through it.

"I'll search from another angle," said Inza, putting down the book she'd picked up. "Perchance, I may be able to detect the presence of this energy force by concentrating my own magical power."

"Very well, then, Inza, but don't strain yourself unnecessarily," Dr. Fate cautioned her. "As yet, we have no idea exactly how much power we will be dealing with here."

"Don't worry about me; _you_ don't overstrain yourself with all this reading you're doing." Inza then bent down, briefly kissing Dr. Fate's helmeted head, and then left the room. Watching her depart for a moment, Dr. Fate slowly turned and resumed reading his tome.

----------

_**Justice League Watchtower, 9:20 p.m.**_

Booster Gold emerged in the dining lounge, limpingonly slightly, with Skeets hovering at his shoulder. "Are you certain you want to be up and about in your condition, Booster?" Skeets asked.

"Don't worry about me so much, Skeets, I'm fine," Booster assured the robot. "I'm just gonna get a bite to eat, and then go back to bed. Nothing to it."

The duo headed for the nearest empty table, and Booster sat down—wincing as he did so. "Oopsie-daisy, now," he muttered under his breath as he sat.

"Booster? What are you doing here?"

Starting at the sound of the voice, Booster turned. "Oh—hey, Dr. Light. Didn't know you were here."

Sitting at another table a short distance away was Dr. Light. Now she stood up and walked over to Booster's table. "Do you mind if I join you?" she asked.

"Help yourself," Booster invited. "I'd pull the chair out for you, but, uh…"

"You're still feeling sore from your match-up with Green Lantern earlier. That's understandable." Dr. Light pulled out a chair and sat opposite Booster. "How are you feeling now, speaking of which? Any serious pain or anything like that? You did get a pretty unorthodox kick, after all."

"I'd rather not remember that now, thanks," and Booster's lips curled in a grimace. "But I'm feeling okay now, sort of. Just a bit hungry."

"I concur," said Dr. Light. "So, perhaps we could order now?"

Just at that moment a kitchen staff member appeared, dressed in the same uniform as the non-super-powered employees of the Watchtower, and wielding a pad and pen. "You guys ordering?" she inquired.

"Yes, thank you," Dr. Light replied. "I'll have just a cup of tea and some toast, please, and a small fruit salad."

"Gimme a double cheeseburger with everything on it, and extra fries, and a malt shake," said Booster.

Nodding, the staffer walked off with their orders. Dr. Light cocked an eyebrow at Booster. "That's a pretty heavy meal, you know that? As well as being chock-full of cholesterol, calories and grease."

"Well, back home they've got worse stuff; compared to that, this is almost like a watered-down version," Booster shrugged.

"Have it your way," Dr. Light shrugged.

They sat in silence for a moment, Skeets hovering in circles around their heads. Then Booster cleared his throat. "Uh, Doc…you mind if I ask you something?"

She eyed him. "You're still wondering why I took the time to give you training, correct?"

"Well…yeah." Booster nodded his admission. "I mean, you don't have to say if you don't want—you did say you had your reasons, right?"

"True, I did say that," Dr. Light admitted. "But looking at it now, I doubt that it's really fair to have helped you without you knowing why I bothered. You, more than anyone right now, deserve to know the truth."

"Okay, then," said Booster, leaning forward with interest.

"'Scuse me, folks, but your order's here…"

Both of them glanced up at that moment, to see the kitchen staffer with a tray balanced in her hand. "Ah, yes, of course," Dr. Light nodded.

"Mmm-mmm!" Booster licked his lips as his plate was put in front of him, and as his malt shake followed right afterwards. "Time to indulge!"

"Not quite," said Dr. Light, even as her toast, fruit salad and tea were put before her. "Now, then…_Itadakimasu!"_

Reaching for his burger, Booster stopped short. "Huh?"

"_Itadakimasu,"_ Skeets spoke up. "It is a Japanese phrase which means 'I will receive.' In Japan, it's a set phrase that is usually spoken before any meal, and is the equivalent of saying grace except that it has no spiritual connotation."

"That's right," Dr. Light nodded, picking up her fork and gently submerging it into the fruit salad bowl.

"Hmmm…sounds like a pretty cool phrase," Booster said thoughtfully. "Uh…_itada_…huh?"

Dr. Light chuckled at Booster's attempt to say the word. _"Ita-daki-maas,"_ she repeated the word in syllables. "That's how you say it, just a little faster."

Booster bobbed his head a little, mentally repeating the word in his mind. "Okay, I think I got it. _Itadaki_-_maaaas!"_

"Close enough," Dr. Light nodded. "Go ahead, eat."

"Guess that makes one more thing you've taught me today," Booster commented, now picking up his burger and biting into it.

"It would seem that way," and Dr. Light popped some of her fruit into her mouth.

Again silence descended for a moment as the two ate. Then Dr. Light set her fork down and took a sip of her tea. "Back before I got my powers, I was an astronomer working in a famous observatory in Japan, an observatory owned by my father," she said quietly. "But I was the only woman there, you see; and especially when I was just starting out in the field, I was looked down upon both because I was a woman and because I was inexperienced."

Booster was still chewing away even as Dr. Light spoke; on hearing that last bit of information, however, he slowly set the burger down and leaned forward.

"I wasn't about to let any of that stop me, though," Dr. Light continued, still in a quiet voice, but with a note of bitterness creeping into her tone. "I worked long, I worked hard, I worked tirelessly to get the respect I felt was due to me. None of it came quickly or easily. In fact, there were times when I contributed much to a project, only to end up getting none of the credit for my work. Even my father didn't think much of my chances; I suppose that's because he was disappointed he didn't get a son instead of a daughter."

Booster scratched the side of his head with his fingertip. "…wow…I don't know what to say to that…"

"So you see, Booster, I know what it's like to not be appreciated," Dr. Light told him. "To have my skills and capabilities taken for granted by the very people who need them. And I also know what it's like to be overshadowed by others all the time. Of course, our respective circumstances were quite different, but in essence they were also the same."

"…I see." Booster swallowed a lump that had grown in his throat.

Dr. Light briefly looked away, then looked back at him. "And…there's a second reason, too. In addition to giving you a chance, albeit a small one, in your struggle, I wanted to give you something I myself never got back then…the assurance that _someone_ had your back, even if it seemed nobody else did."

Booster nodded understanding at this. "Well, you really did, Doc. Thanks. Really. And…I'm sorry you had it rough back then."

"It's all right." Dr. Light smiled a little. "What's past is past. All we can do is look forward and move on."

Neither said anything else for a moment. Dr. Light's fingertips were absently tracing the outline of her teacup. Booster's hand was patting the top of his burger as if to pick it up. But neither was looking at their food…just at each other.

"I suppose this is the part where you 'kiss the girl,' Booster?" Skeets interjected.

Instantly both Booster and Dr. Light turned to look at the robot. "What're you talking about? That's just plain insanity!" Booster hissed a little too loudly, and then he grabbed his burger and began to dig into it with massive bites.

"Yes, what he said!" Dr. Light nodded fervently, a huge blush on her cheeks, and she grabbed her teacup and downed the whole beverage in one go.

Skeets watched as the two literally shoveled away their food with over-enthusiasm, and released the equivalent of a sigh. "Humans…so complex…"

----------

Meanwhile, in the monitor room, Mr. Terrific sat in his chair, studying the monitors. "Hmmm…no emergencies of any sort that warrants the Justice League's attention," he mused. "I guess the world's giving us a break tonight…"

He sat back in the chair, a frown now appearing over his features. "All right…time to begin those investigations I promised G.L. I'd set up."

Reaching for the keyboard, he tapped a few buttons on it, tuning the comm.-link frequency. "Question, Mr. Terrific here. Do you copy?"

There was a few seconds' worth of silence…then a low, enigmatic voice responded to Mr. Terrific's query. "I hope you have a reason for interrupting my latest investigation, Mr. Terrific."

"Oh? And what investigation would that be this time?" Mr. Terrific raised an eyebrow and stood up from his chair.

Question's voice became even more hushed, as though afraid of eavesdroppers. "The big-name fast-food franchises are secretly adding experimental mind-control nanotechnology into their burgers and French fries, on the order of Illuminati shadow leaders. The nanotech they use is refined enough that it is safe from the dangers of the cooking process and the digestive system, and yet it's powerful enough to make any random consumer an unwilling puppet of the much larger scheme of things."

Mr. Terrific rolled his eyes and shook his head. "And your proof is…?"

"That's what I'm seeking out now," Question told him. "They conceal the whole process of their food preparation from the consumers so that they can include the nanotech incognito…but if I can just catch them in the act…"

"Sorry, Question, but that's gonna have to wait," Mr. Terrific interrupted. "Right now, I need you to do me a favor."

"Really? And what would that be?" Question's tone hinted at disapproval of being pulled away from his investigation.

Mr. Terrific's tone was now very serious. "I need you to do a little digging for me…into the life and times of one Hunter Zolomon. He's currently with the Meta-human Crimes Division for the Central City police, and he's got a pretty powerful intolerance for costumed superheroes, super-villains, and vigilantes. I need you to find out as much info on this guy as you possibly can. Past associations, high school and college experiences, former jobs, whatever you can dig up."

"Interesting," Question mused. "Very well, I'll see what I can find out. Oh, and be careful of the next burger you eat—you never know what kind of secret technology _they'll_ put into it next."

With that, the line went dead. Mr. Terrific sighed and sat back down. "Now I only hope I don't end up regretting asking _him_ to do this," he muttered to himself.

_**CHAPTER 13 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 14 COMING UP!**_

(NOTE TO BE MADE: When I was thinking through this chapter, I was sorely tempted to go right into the events of "the next day," which will come next chapter, but I had to flesh it out and give a little more detailed information to set us all up for what's coming next. So, to have Dr. Fate, his wife Inza, and the android Amazo investigating the Speed Force on one end, and the Question investigating Hunter Zolomon on the other end, seems to me to be pretty good idea to prepare for what is to come in later chapters. Oh, and as for Question…I was juggling with whether to use him, or to let Mr. Terrific do the investigating himself, but then I thought, "I don't want to drag Mr. Terrific out of his role as League coordinator," and I definitely didn't want to bring in Batman since I wanted to see how investigations would go without him this time around in my JL stories…and so, the decision to use the Question was sustained. And besides, the Question's oddities are so interesting, wouldn't you say?)


	14. Chapter 14

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 14

_**Central City Police Department, 6:20 a.m. the next morning**_

The rather large truck drove up the street toward the CCPD building, slowing to nearly a crawl as it neared the front steps. Pulling over to the curb as best he could, the driver opened his door and jumped out, bustling up the steps toward the front door. In his hand he carried a pen and a sheet-board.

Two beat cops emerged from the entrance at that moment, chattering away with each other. "So then I said, 'Margie, how many times do I have to tell you? You don't order pizza without anchovies and olives!'" one of them chuckled.

"Anchovies and olives?" the other wrinkled his nose in disgust. "You seriously need a shrink…"

Both of them took a glance at the approaching truck driver. "Uh, excuse me, sir…can we help you?" the first cop asked warily.

"Yeah," the driver replied. "I'm here to make a delivery to the department from Blacksmith Corporation." And he jabbed his thumb toward his truck, where the eponymous logo was clearly spelled out on the side.

"Blacksmith Corporation, eh?" the second cop remarked. "Must be the new equipment they said they were gonna donate to us…but it's a little early for you to be making the delivery, don't you think?"

"Hey, I'm just the delivery guy," the driver shrugged. "I'm being paid to make this trip to you guys. It's not my place to ask why I have to do things a certain way."

The two cops looked at each other. "Well, let's just confirm that this delivery is what you say it is," the first cop suggested. "Wanna open up the back of the truck and let us have a look inside, pal?"

Nodding, the driver turned and headed back to the truck, the two cops behind him. Heading around to the truck's rear end, he unlocked the doors and pulled them open. "Knock yourselves out," he invited.

The officers shone flashlights into the truck's interior—and their eyes widened. "Whoa…would you look at all this!" the second cop said with awe clear in his voice.

For there, illuminated by the beams of their flashlights, were several dozen Protector suits, designed just as Amunet Black had demonstrated only the day before. "Uh-huh, this is definitely for us," the first cop chuckled.

"I'll let the rest inside know—you direct the driver to the back of the building!" and with that the second cop turned and swiftly headed back up the steps to the station.

----------

_**Hub City, Illinois, 6:35 a.m.**_

Several miles away from Central City…

There was a somewhat modest-looking city sign along a particular stretch of road, weathered and almost illegible, that barely managed to spell out a greeting: "Welcome to Hub City. Population:…" The last bit was completely gone, thanks to Father Time and the elements. Just beyond that sign were several tall but otherwise uninteresting and unimposing-looking buildings that seemed to have been pushed together by hand to form some semblance of a town. From a good distance, this town didn't seem all that much different from any other town in the world, and the viewer would have been forgiven for thinking that there was nothing much worth stopping here for.

But in one of those tall buildings, a brown high-rise, there lived a certain man…a man who didn't let his business be known by his neighbors and who wasn't asked questions by anybody who knew he lived there. If asked, the most any of his neighbors would say was that he was a little odd, but otherwise was a quiet and decent enough man who always paid his rent on time and knew to mind his own business regardless of what might be happening out in the hallway or in any of the other apartments. Should they be pressed further, those who felt talkative enough would go further to say that one never knew when this man was there from when he wasn't; his comings and goings always seemed shrouded in mystery…and as far as they knew or cared, some days he was just there, other days he just wasn't, and that was all there was to it.

And at this fairly early hour of the morning, a time when most would still be sound asleep in their beds before having to get up in less than half an hour, this man was just arriving back at his room, stepping with the near-silence of a cat.

Walking almost on tiptoe, the man headed for one of several oak doors in a small hallway. All the doors looked alike; if there had been room numbers on them before, they weren't there now. But this man just knew which one was for _his_ room, and that was all that mattered to him. Behind several of the other nearby doors, he knew, were drunkards, wife-beaters, single mothers, and others. But he rarely, if ever, bothered to interact with any of them unless he felt it was absolutely necessary—and at this hour of the morning, he didn't think it was. All that mattered to him at that moment was the mission he'd been given only several hours earlier.

Presently he stopped outside _his_ door. Reaching inside his trench-coat, he pulled out a single key with a decorative item dangling from its end via keychain. Carefully, looking around as though afraid of unwanted watchers lurking nearby, he pushed the key into the lock and turned it ever so slowly. There was a slight _click…_and then the door gave way, allowing him to push it inward and step inside the room.

Entering, he beheld the apartment. There wasn't too much to speak of in plain sight: two windows, a bed, a table on which rested a laptop, and two chairs near that table. Off to the side, there was a separate door leading to the bathroom. Closing, locking and bolting the door, the man slipped off his gloves, coat and fedora and headed for the bathroom; as he entered, he immediately went to the sink.

He bent down to splash some water on his face—then he stopped and beheld himself in the mirror. Oddly enough, there was nothing there to behold besides bare flesh—no eyes, no nose, no mouth. The face was a complete blank. Seeing this, he chuckled slightly. Such a sight would freak out anyone, no doubt; after all, should one not expect to see those special, familiar features on a face, instead of seeing nothing but ghastly emptiness?

But for the Question, not possessing a face was not a real issue. It provided him with an extra degree of security that nobody could ascertain his true identity, and that was all that mattered to him, especially in his line of work.

Coming back out of the bathroom, he walked over to the table and sat down, powering the laptop on as he did so. "I honestly hope this research Mr. Terrific has asked me to do is worth it," he sighed, almost to himself. "Who knows what kind of unspeakable things _they_ are including in the ingredients at Burger King or Wendy's right now…"

He waited while the laptop finished booting up; then he began to type. "Now, then…Central City Police Department, let's see your unit list, hmmm?" he spoke to the computer, almost as though it would talk back any moment now. "All right…Narcotics Division…SWAT…Forensics Unit…ah, here we are, Meta-Human Crimes Division. Okay, let's see the member list for this one…"

He moved the mouse and clicked a few times. "I see…only a few prominent members," he mused. "And…yes, here you are, Hunter Zolomon. All right, let's see what's so special about you, eh?"

Again Question moved the mouse and double-clicked. He looked on with interest as the information rolled onto the screen before his eyes. "Name: Hunter Zolomon. Birthplace: Virginia. Education: University of Richmond. Past work experience: classified. Hmm, now there's something interesting…what's so classified about your past job or jobs, Mr. Zolomon?"

He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Secrets are the spice of my life…and it seems you have quite a few, Mr. Zolomon. And before this morning is through, I promise you, I will find out each and every last one of yours."

----------

_**Wally West's Apartment, Central City, 7:00 a.m.**_

_BZZZZT! BZZZZT! BZZZZT! BZZZZT!_

Wally grumbled and blindly fumbled around for the alarm buzzer. "All right, all right, I'm awake already," he grunted as his searching fingers finally found the switch and shut the alarm off. "Yawn…all right, I just hope there's something in the fridge this morning…"

Slowly and gingerly getting up, he shuffled over to the window and drew the blinds. "Huh…looks pretty bleak out for a Sunday morning," he sighed as he took in the overcast gray sky. "Good thing I'm not due at work today. Well, let's see what the fridge has to offer."

Crossing over to where the somewhat small fridge stood near the wall, he paused and switched the TV on. Immediately the voice of a weatherman emerged before the picture was visible: "…and over in the Eastern States, expect a good chance of bad weather in the upcoming days, with short bursts of rainfall over parts of Illinois, Missouri and Kentucky, mixed in with a bit of thunderstorm activity. That means for all you folks especially in Central, Keystone and Hub Cities, don't forget to go out with your umbrellas and raincoats at all times…"

Shaking his head in disgust, Wally opened the fridge door—and beheld a whole stock of food staring back at him, from milk to sodas to sandwiches to pot roast. "Okay, what will I have…" He scanned the fridge's shelves from top to bottom and back again. "Okay, one soda and two sandwiches, coming up!"

Moments later he was leaning against the fridge, contentedly munching on a double-decker sandwich with another one in his hand and a soda on top of the fridge, next to his head. "Eh, who cares about bad weather as long as the fridge is nicely stocked?" he chuckled to himself between bites. "Wonder what's in the cupboard that I can add to this?"

Crossing to the cupboard, he opened one side—and his face fell. "Aw, man! Out of cheese already? But I NEVER run out of cheese!" he cried. "And corned beef, too? Okay, Wally, that's it…from now on, you're eating three meals a day, _only!"_

With that he slammed the cupboard shut. Pushing the last of the sandwich in his mouth, he followed that up with a quick swig from the soda bottle and crossed back over to the fridge, picking up the second sandwich from where he'd left it. "Guess I'd better go grocery shopping in a little while and stock up on my cheese and corned beef," he muttered to himself as he chewed.

Wally bit into the second sandwich…again…and again…and yet again. And as he ate, with intermittent gulps of soda, his thoughts wandered. "Hmmm…let's see, what's to be done today…oh, yeah, I've got a coffee date with that cute reporter girl, Linda…"

All at once, realization dawned on him. "Oh, shucks! I forgot—I haven't even picked out what I'm gonna wear! I gotta impress her if I'm gonna meet her!" he exclaimed in a panic. Hurriedly wolfing down the rest of the sandwich and guzzling the soda down, he rushed over to his wardrobe and began to search through it at super-speed. "C'mon, please tell me I at least have something that looks good…"

----------

_**Blacksmith Corporation, 7:25 a.m.**_

Amunet Black sighed and opened her eyes, taking in the light that was pouring through her room window. "Ah, yes…today is going to be a grand day, I know it," she smiled.

Sitting up, she reached to her bedside table and picked up a bell that was sitting there, and rang it briefly. Then, setting it back down, she got out of bed and crossed over to the window, looking out at the gradually-wakening city below. "Yes…today will definitely be a grand day for me," she chuckled to herself.

There was a knock at her door. "You rang, madam?" her butler's voice asked from behind it.

"Yes," she replied. "Do enter."

The butler soon appeared, bowing respectfully. "Has our guest awoken yet?" Ms. Black addressed him.

"Yes, madam," the butler replied. "He has been awake for the last half an hour, and is currently enjoying breakfast in bed. Once he is finished and has washed and dressed, we will outfit him for the…demonstration…as per your instructions. Also, the Protector gear has already arrived at the police department as of one hour ago, also as per your instructions."

Ms. Black nodded. "And my lunch appointment with the mayor still stands?"

"Yes, madam," the butler replied.

"Very well," Ms. Black nodded again. "Contact the clients and ensure that they've synchronized their respective times and are tuned in via their satellite feedbacks…the demonstration will be set to take place at 9:00 today. Also, ensure that the payments are sent to the dummy account as arranged. After that, once our guest is outfitted, show him the underground path to the heart of Central City…and from there, he can have all the fun he likes."

"As you wish, madam," and the butler bowed again. Then he turned and left the room, leaving Ms. Black with a very contented smile on her lips.

----------

_**Central City Police Department, 7:40 a.m.**_

The department's front door opened wide, and in shuffled Hunter on his walking cane—and he stopped short. "Huh? What's going on? Is it somebody's birthday today and nobody told me?"

For right before his eyes, all the police officers were in a very jovial and celebratory mood, whooping and cheering over and over. One of them glanced up and spotted him. "Hey, Zolomon, good news! Blacksmith Corporation sent those upgrades to us, just like they said! They sent 'em just this morning!"

Hunter shook his head. "Well, there's no need to get so excited—we all already knew they'd be sending them, right?" he reasoned.

"Doesn't mean we can't celebrate now that they're actually here!" another officer retorted good-naturedly.

"Hmph…well, go ahead and celebrate all you like. _Some_ of us actually have work to do." Hunter hobbled in toward the direction of his office. "Catch you later."

"Sure thing, party-pooper," some of the cops responded, but there was no malice in their voices.

Snorting, Hunter went on his way and, by and by, arrived at his office. Opening the door, he shuffled in and settled into his chair…and only then allowed himself the privilege of a smile. "Heh…if it wasn't for my bad leg, I'd be jumping for joy with the rest of you…" he chuckled.

Hardly were the words out of his mouth when Chyre poked his head through the doorway. "Yo, Zolomon, you're pretty early," he remarked. "Don't believe in sleeping late on weekends or something?"

"Please—like there's anything interesting to do back at home, and on a Sunday at that," Hunter sighed. "Besides, my work as profiler never gets a holiday, what with all the costumed freaks running loose in this city. But at least these new Protectors that Blacksmith Corporation has donated to the department will make my work a little lighter."

"Well, the boys and girls out there sure seem happy to have a chance to wear Protectors," Chyre commented.

"They should be," Hunter answered. "After the demonstration Amunet Black put on for all of us at City Hall yesterday, this city's cops will finally be able to actually do some work and apprehend criminals on their own terms, instead of having to rely on guys like the Flash all the time and end up doing nothing but cleanup."

"Doesn't mean we can't accept his help from time to time," Chyre said reasonably. "After all, there's only so much that we cops can do to tackle crime, upgrades or not."

Hunter scowled. "As far as I'm concerned, Central City's cops have been too reliant on that speeding freak for years."

Chyre regarded him. "You really don't trust him, do you? Even after all he's done for the city…"

Hunter leveled a glare at Chyre. "The day I'll trust him is the day he stops hiding behind that mask of his and shows his face to everybody. I mean, what's he hiding for, huh? If he really wants to earn everyone's trust, he shouldn't keep any secrets from the populace."

"We all have secrets we want to keep, whether we're superheroes or ordinary people," Chyre said gravely. "Like you, for example."

"What about me?" Hunter asked carefully.

"Well, it's been two months since you joined us here," replied Chyre, "but in all that time you haven't really opened up to anybody—except maybe that West kid, but even that isn't very much. We're your partners, Zolomon, and yet you know more about us than we know about you. What's up with that?"

Hunter shook his head at that. "My secrets and the secrets that the Flash has aren't the same kind," he grunted. "After all, his face behind that mask of his is one that everybody deserves to know about. If he doesn't want to show it, is that the mark of someone who can be trusted? I don't care what you think—anybody who wears a blasted mask and refuses to remove it is nothing but problems that we don't need."

"If you say so," Chyre shrugged, turning to leave. At the doorway he stopped and looked back. "But you'd better remember, Zolomon, there's more than one kind of mask in this world…and something tells me you're wearing one right now. So watch it." And then with that, he was gone.

Hunter leaned back in his chair and scowled darkly. "Hmph. Whatever, old boy."

----------

_**Linda Park's House, 7:50 a.m., in the meantime**_

The phone rang loudly in the living room of the modest-looking bungalow. "Coming, coming!" Linda shouted from a separate room; then, seconds later, she dashed into the room clad in a baby-blue bathrobe with a towel wrapped around her head. Swiftly she snatched up the receiver. "Hello?" she asked breathlessly.

"Hey, Linda, it's Marla," the camerawoman's voice came on the line. "You sound like you were running a marathon or something."

"For your information, I was just in the shower," Linda replied.

"Ohhh, that explains a whole lot." Marla chuckled. "Well, I just thought I'd call and remind you. You've got a hot date with that red-haired guy in a couple of hours."

"It is SO not a date, Marla!" Linda snapped. "We're just going to have coffee and conversation! That doesn't mean it's a date!"

"Suuuuuuuuure," Marla replied, her tone indicating she wasn't convinced at all. "You're going out, alone, un-chaperoned, with a cute guy you met only yesterday. If that's not a date, I don't know what is."

"Whatever," Linda scowled. "If you called to torture me, Marla, then forget it."

"Actually, that's not the only reason I called." Marla's voice was now quite serious. "I also wanted to remind you that you're on as news anchor for the 8:00 news later tonight. Which means you need to come over to the station at 1:00 today so we can go over the news package you'll be delivering."

"Please, Marla, I haven't forgotten about that," Linda sighed and patted her towel-covered hair. "At least being the anchor is a whole lot safer than being out in the field."

"Well, be glad you won't be out in the field today," Marla remarked. "Did you hear the weather report this morning? Seems we'll be in for quite a bit of weather for the next few days."

"Despite the fact that the Weather Wizard hasn't been seen around lately," Linda joked.

"You never can tell with a weather-obsessed freak like him," answered Marla. "But even if this weather system's all-natural this time around, that doesn't mean it's going to be any friendlier. Thunder and lightning are not this girl's best friends."

"Nor is a torrential downpour mine," said Linda. "No worries, Marla. I'm gonna go to this meeting, and then I'll come straight down to the station and we can go over the presentation package together. You'll see me there later, rain or no rain."

"All right, then. You take care. And enjoy your date!" And Marla hung up.

"IT IS NOT A DATE!" Linda screeched into the phone. Growling in disgust, she replaced the receiver in the cradle. "Whatever…well, better finish showering…then after that, I have to find something to wear that'll be both social and rain-friendly…"

----------

_**Hub City, Illinois, 7:55 a.m., at the same time**_

Question typed and typed at the laptop keyboard…and paused.

_ACCESS DENIED._

"Not that, either," he mumbled. "As if that's going to stop me."

He typed again. _ACCESS DENIED. _And again. _ACCESS DENIED. _And yet again. _ACCESS DENIED._

Question's featureless face didn't show the growing frustration he certainly felt. "Central City's legal database wouldn't show anything about you," he sighed. "Online newspaper archives wouldn't show anything about you. Perhaps the FBI's various databases will produce some results…if only I could get a good lock-in…"

Again he typed. _ACCESS DENIED._

"Their anti-hacker system is definitely up-to-date, I'll give them that," Question acceded, leaning back in his chair. "None of my backdoor pass-codes work anymore. I guess I'll just have to rely on the trusty old encryption-cracker program…"

He reached for the mouse and double-clicked a few times, then typed on the keyboard, then double-clicked again. By and by, his encryption-breaker program was up and running, and he leaned back in his chair. "What are you hiding, Zolomon? And why are you hiding it?" he asked aloud. "And what about your life as a whole? What was your childhood like? What did you study in college? What happened in between your college years and your joining Central City's law enforcement?"

He leaned forward again, and his tone became lower and more sinister. "Was it something you did at some point? Is that why there's barely any record of you? Is there something about your life that you don't want the world to know or to find out about? Or…perhaps the FBI is deliberately withholding that information for the purpose of some nefarious scheme? I knew they couldn't be trusted." He rested his chin in his palm. "So many questions…so many questions…and so few answers to match to them…"

_ENCRYPTION CRACKED. ACCESS GRANTED._

"Ah!" Question lightened up almost instantly. "Now we're getting somewhere. At last…the secrets of the life of Hunter Zolomon…not even the FBI can keep that information classified for long."

He put a hand on the mouse, and studied the list of menu options open and available on the screen. "Top 10 Most Wanted…Missing Persons…Witness Protection Program…Past Agents…which would you most likely fall under, eh, Zolomon?"

He moved the cursor over the Witness Protection Program option. His finger hovered over the mouse button…then he abruptly shifted the cursor to Past Agents and double-clicked.

_CLASSIFIED. PASSWORD REQUIRED._

Question shook his head and sighed in major annoyance. "This is going to take a whole lot longer than I thought," he muttered. "But whatever is here, it's definitely something they don't want the world to know about. Well…nothing stays secret from me for very long." And he set to work, typing on the keyboard again.

_**CHAPTER 14 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 15 COMING UP!**_

(NOTE TO BE MADE: What I wrote for Hunter Zolomon's biography as the Question was reading it, I made up that information, seeing as I haven't had access to comics to find out any accurate information and online sources don't tell me jack. And as for hacking, I don't know if Question really does it—does what he did in "Question Authority" count as hacking?—and I don't condone it in real life. But then, that's my take on the Question for you!)


	15. Chapter 15

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 15

_**Justice League Watchtower, 8:00 a.m.**_

The comm.-link frequency at the monitor station buzzed, and Mr. Terrific quickly responded to it. "Watchtower here."

"This is Dr. Fate," the voice on the other end came through. "Is Superman there, by any chance?"

"No, he's not," Mr. Terrific answered. "He's likely on his morning patrol of Metropolis right now. Is it something that maybe another Leaguer can help you with, Dr. Fate?"

"Well, it was specifically Superman who'd made a request of me yesterday," Dr. Fate replied. "I was hoping to get in contact with him so I could update him."

"I see," Mr. Terrific remarked. "Well, couldn't you have just contacted him directly with the comm.-link?"

"Well, I was actually thinking he might've been there," Dr. Fate admitted. "But since you say he is patrolling Metropolis, I have no wish to disturb him for now."

"True enough," Mr. Terrific agreed. He waited for a moment. "By any chance, assuming it's not a secret mission or anything, could you tell me what it was Superman wanted you to do for him?"

"No, it wasn't a secret mission; however, I would think Superman is more entitled than I to disclose the nature of his request," Dr. Fate answered.

"Yeah, fair enough," Mr. Terrific replied. Then suddenly the comm.-link frequency buzzed again. "Just a sec, Dr. Fate. Yes, Watchtower here."

"Superman here," the familiar voice came through. "I'd like a pick-up to the Watchtower."

"Okay, just a sec. And just so you know, Dr. Fate is here on the frequency wanting to talk to you about something," Mr. Terrific informed him.

He then touched a few buttons on his console…and moments later Superman showed up in the teleporter pod. The Man of Steel promptly flew up to where Mr. Terrific awaited him. "Dr. Fate, this is Superman. I just came back onto the Watchtower. You know you could've contacted me directly instead of calling the Watchtower."

"My apologies," Dr. Fate answered. "I thought you were already there, and then I was told you were on patrol in Metropolis…"

"I was," Superman affirmed. "Nothing big happening there that needed my immediate attention, though. So, you got something for me?"

"Unfortunately, not very much," Dr. Fate said almost apologetically. "Inza, Amazo and I researched all night and right up to a while ago, but we still haven't been able to learn anything regarding the Speed Force. It remains as much a mystery to us now as before."

"I see." Superman sounded disappointed. "Well, thanks for the time anyway, Fate. Sorry to make you do all that checking for nothing."

"Not at all," Dr. Fate assured him. "And I will not stop my investigation just yet. I'm about to double-check all of my books and scrolls…perchance, there may have been a clue we have overlooked. I will inform you of any new developments."

"If any come up," Superman added. "Thanks again." And then he killed the connection.

Mr. Terrific, standing nearby the whole time, cocked an eyebrow at the Man of Steel. "Okay, Superman, you wanna tell me what's going on? Is it anything I should be concerned about? And what's this 'Speed Force' that Fate was talking about?"

Superman glanced at him, seeming to mentally debate whether to answer or not. Then he shrugged. "It has to do four years ago, when we faced Brainiac and Luthor. Something happened during that fight…something involving Flash."

"Yes?" Mr. Terrific waited expectantly.

Again Superman seemed to hesitate with the answer. Did he have to tell Mr. Terrific the specific details about it? Was he obligated to? Then the thought crossed his mind that Terrific was the Justice League coordinator now; anything that had to do with League business immediately would come to his attention sooner or later even if it didn't involve him personally in any way.

"Well…back during that battle, Flash ran so fast he nearly vanished into thin air," he explained. "The way I understand it, the Speed Force is some kind of energy field that he was able to draw additional speed from. I'm having Dr. Fate look into it and find out whatever he can about it…and whether it could hurt Flash in any way or not."

Mr. Terrific cocked an eyebrow again. "I see…but isn't it a little extreme to call somebody like Dr. Fate into this? His expertise is magic; the way you're talking, you almost make this Speed Force thing sound…mystical."

"We don't know for sure what it _is,_ yet," Superman answered. "But I'm willing to bet it could have some kind of magical origin of sorts, given Flash's description of it."

Mr. Terrific shook his head. "And for all you know, it could have some other kind of explanation to it, one that's more scientific and logical," he reasoned. "After all, nobody ever heard of it before four years ago, right? And it only appeared after Flash reached a certain top speed, right?"

"What're you getting at?" Superman wondered.

"Let me break it down for you," Mr. Terrific went on. "Flash's top speed is light speed. Mathematically defined, light speed is calculated at 299,792,458 meters per second. If Flash were to go faster than that, which seems to be what he did in that case, the force of velocity could probably have triggered a sort of kinetic reaction that would've been able to simulate that kind of 'energy field' that you're talking about."

"But what about Flash disappearing right after that? And we also saw a big ball of blue energy that we had to drag him out of," Superman responded.

"Flash disappearing—light waves are capable of rendering objects invisible when positioned at certain angles, so the buildup of kinetic energy from his traveling beyond the speed of light could somehow have simulated that invisibility effect to such a degree that it would appear as if he was disappearing." Mr. Terrific nodded as he spoke. "And that ball of blue energy you saw—a manifestation of the same kinetic reaction simulating the energy field, like I explained just now."

Superman frowned. "You sound as if that experience Flash had could've been far more scientific than supernatural," he noted.

Mr. Terrific shrugged at this. "Everything has a logical, rational explanation, Superman," he answered, "even the things most people attribute to 'miracles' and that kind of thing. Me, I don't believe in miracles…I believe in reason."

"I see…" Superman's frown grew a little more, however.

----------

_**Hub City, Illinois, 8:15 a.m.**_

_ACCESS DENIED._

Question clenched his fist; his whole arm trembled as he fought off the urge to smash the laptop. "Keep your cool, keep your cool," he whispered to himself. "Don't let this security system break you before you break it…"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. "All right, let's make a list of all the FBI pass-codes I've ever gotten," and with that he wrote feverishly. "Let's only hope this pass-code that the system wants isn't a new and original one."

It took him a little while, but by and by he had written down all the codes he could recall from memory. "Now, which of these have I already used so far now…" He made crossing motions with the pen, marking off used-up codes. "Okay. Now to start afresh."

That done, Question moved his hands over the keyboard, ready to type once again. "All right…is this the code?" he asked aloud, typing one in.

_ACCESS DENIED._

"Didn't think so, either," Question muttered. "All right…perhaps this one…?"

_ACCESS DENIED._

He ran his hand over his featureless face. Then he typed again. And again. And again. And yet again.

_ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED._

The possible codes were getting crossed off the list, one by one, at a rapid pace. Question typed a few more times.

_ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED. ACCESS DENIED._

Question took a look at the codes list—now scribbled all over with crossing-out of one code after another. "Hm, guess they really have gotten themselves a new password to protect their dirty little secrets," he muttered.

Then he paused and looked again at the list. In the midst of all the scribbles, there was still one possible code that he hadn't erased yet. "Or…perhaps not," he mused as he turned back to the keyboard and typed once again.

He pressed the Enter key. There was a few seconds' pause. And then—

_ACCESS APPROVED._

"At last…persistence really does pay off," Question chuckled, leaning back in his chair and stretching. "Okay…now, time to discover what secrets the FBI is hiding about Zolomon."

Moving the mouse, he clicked a few times. Then he leaned forward toward the laptop screen and looked at the information before him.

And looked. And looked. And looked.

"…have mercy…"

----------

_**Central City, 8:25 a.m., at that moment**_

"Hey, man—check out those suits!"

"Daddy, look! That policeman's dressed up like a knight!"

"Mmm, now I _REALLY_ love men in uniform…"

And so the comments flew about from various civilians as, all over the city, police officers on foot patrol and in squad cars caught everyone's attention with the Protector uniforms they wore. Many of the cops that were so armored, in response to the favorable comments, would turn and hail citizens as they went on their beat. Of course, there were still one or two occasional cops wearing ordinary threads, but these didn't get quite as many accolades as their geared-up associates did.

Walking along the sidewalk, Wally watched as passersby hailed the armored cops. "Guess Amunet Black's Protector suit is really a hit with everybody," he chuckled.

"Hey, kid! Where're you headed?"

Turning at the sound of the voice, Wally beheld a squad car pulling up near him—and inside were Chyre and Morillo, the former in the driver's seat. "Hi, guys! I'm surprised you're not wearing the Protector suits, too!" he greeted them.

"What, us? Well, the other cops were so busy hogging over them back at the station, we just decided to let them do their own in-fighting about it," Morillo replied.

"Yeah, right, that's not what I saw happen, Morillo," Chyre grunted at him. "You tried one on and then refused to get back into it just because it was squeezing your—"

"LA-LA-LA-LA-LA, I'M NOT LISTENING TO YOU!" Morillo yelled, putting his hands over his ears as he did.

Wally laughed at that. "Heh…well, anyways, I'm just heading over to the supermarket—pick up a couple of things, you know? I gotta keep my place well-stocked, after all."

"Want a lift?" Chyre asked, leaning over in preparation to open the back door.

"Nah, it's cool; it's just another block from here," Wally declined. "Besides, there's also a burger joint right over there—I was thinking maybe I could stop there and grab a bite to eat, you know?"

"You've got money to waste," Morillo chuckled. "All right, West. Guess we'll catch you later, then."

"More like tomorrow—I'm not scheduled to come in today," Wally amended.

"Well, fine, then, tomorrow it is," Chyre answered. "See you around, kid. We gotta continue our beat, after all."

The car pulled over from the sidewalk, and Morillo and Chyre drove off, leaving Wally standing alone. Looking up and down the street a few times, Wally jogged across and toward the burger joint in question.

----------

_**Blacksmith Corporation, 8:30 a.m.**_

Amunet Black sat at her dining table, waiting expectantly as her butler brought in her breakfast on a covered tray. "Your breakfast is served, madam," and he uncovered the tray and set the plate down before her.

Ms. Black smiled at what she saw in front of her. "A double-stack of pancakes, eggs benedict, and a small side of a mango and papaya fruit salad…"

"And a cup of green tea, as well," and the butler set a cup down next to her plate.

Nodding with approval, Ms. Black unfolded her napkin, picked up her knife and fork, and proceeded to eat. As she did, she casually remarked, "Any new developments?"

"Yes, madam," the butler replied. "All of the clients have been contacted and are on standby to receive satellite feedback of the demonstration. Also, our technicians just finished last-minute checks on the 'Razer' model, and are currently outfitting our guest as we speak. Oh, and the company's public relations crew is prepared for the aftermath of the demonstration."

"Very good," Ms. Black nodded approval again. "Now all that's left is to point our guest in the right direction so that the demonstration can begin on time. See to it."

"Yes, madam," and the butler bowed and left. Smiling briefly, Ms. Black took a sip of her tea, then went on eating.

----------

_**Central City, 8:40 a.m.**_

"Here you go!" the waitress announced as she placed a plate on the counter in front of Wally. "That's three bucks."

The plate held two impressive-looking cheeseburgers and a large amount of fries, with a generous helping of ketchup on top. "Thanks a bunch," Wally nodded to the waitress, and handed her a few bills and some change.

Pocketing the money, the waitress walked off. Immediately Wally picked up his fork and stuck it into the fries, putting a whole bundle of them into his mouth. "Who says you can't have burgers and fries as a kind of second breakfast?" he chuckled with a full mouth, even as he picked up one of the cheeseburgers and prepared to bite into it.

_Bzzt bzzt! Bzzt bzzt!_

Feeling the vibrating of a pager in his pocket, Wally reached for it and pulled it out, glancing at it. "Aw, man…Excuse me, could I use your phone a sec?" he appealed to the waitress, who was passing right by him at that moment.

"Sure, it's over there," and the waitress thumbed in the direction of the phone, fastened onto a wall.

Wally got up and went over there, reaching for the receiver and dialing the number that had come up on the pager. Glancing around for a moment, making sure nobody was watching, he released the receiver, zipped back to the table, snatched up the burger he'd been about to bite, then zipped back and grabbed the receiver again—all in the space of a few seconds. _Whew…glad nobody saw that just now…_

"Hello?" the voice of his supervisor, on the other end of the line, spoke up

"Hey, just got your page," Wally informed him. "What's up?"

"Dr. Tina McGee just called from STAR Labs," the supervisor explained. "I still have her on the line, by the way, and she has some information for us. Hold on, I'll put you on three-way."

Wally bit into his burger, chewing and swallowing quickly. Then Dr. McGee's voice came on the line. "Hello, Mr. West?"

"Hey, Dr. McGee," Wally replied. "I'm surprised you're calling; I thought you said you wouldn't be able to analyze that evidence I left with you till about this evening."

"Well, luckily for you, my husband had some spare time on his hands and was able to come here to STAR Labs to do the analysis," Dr. McGee explained. "And what he found just might interest you, I dare say."

"How's that?" Wally bit into the burger again, taking care to chew as quietly as possible, though he still chewed rapidly.

Dr. McGee's tone was now grave. "That chemical substance that was on that metal shard you brought us…we've been able to identify it," she said. "It's a substance called Lubrilon—a special chemical polymer that hardens like plastic once applied to any given surface, and is completely frictionless."

"What's so special about this 'Lubrilon' stuff, Dr. McGee?" Wally wondered.

"Lubrilon was developed around four years or so ago by one of our STAR Labs branches over in Japan," Dr. McGee explained. "It had been requested by a liaison from the American military, one General Wade Eiling, on behalf of a government agency headed by an Amanda Waller…the way the story goes, Gen. Eiling said that it was a request to all STAR Labs branches worldwide by order of the President, for the purpose of 'global security enhancement.'"

In the act of putting the burger to his mouth for another bite, Wally paused upon hearing the familiar names. _Eiling…Waller…so Cadmus had a hand in this Lubrilon thing, eh?_

"However, a little while after that the request from Gen. Eiling was suddenly and inexplicably cancelled," Dr. McGee went on. "By that time, though, the Japanese branch had come up with the Lubrilon and had even tested it for military purposes. As far as I understand it, the STAR Labs people over there were ordered by their government to seal away all documents regarding the development of the Lubrilon, so that none of the other world governments could get their hands on it and use it against them."

"And you called your Japanese associates to confirm this?" Wally's supervisor's voice came back on.

"Yes, that's right," Dr. McGee acknowledged. "Their chief of staff and my husband are old acquaintances. When I told him what we'd discovered here, he was more than willing to share that information."

"But I don't get it," Wally spoke up. "If their STAR Labs sealed away anything to do with Lubrilon, how'd the stuff come here to America?"

"Well, obviously they must've somehow smuggled it out of Japan," the supervisor answered. "And if someone like the Thinker was able to get his hands on such a large supply to reinforce his Think Tank, then just think of how readily available Lubrilon may be, especially on the black market right now."

"Well, there's where a certain problem comes in," Dr. McGee cut in. "You see, the Lubrilon supply that was developed wasn't really as large an amount as you may think—in fact, only about eighty gallons of that polymer in its initial liquid state had been successfully developed before the order was cancelled. And the Thinker would've needed only half that amount to reinforce his weapon. That aside, also, Lubrilon itself is developed using some undisclosed, but also some apparently rare raw materials native to Japan and the surrounding area to give it its unique structure that makes it almost frictionless once hardened. It would be quite difficult to go searching for such raw materials nowadays without drawing the attention of the Japanese government."

"But they wouldn't have been able to get it out of Japan, legally or otherwise, without drawing that government's attention either," the supervisor pointed out.

"But it looks like they did," Wally noted.

There was a brief moment of silence as this point sank in. Then the supervisor sighed. "All right—so Lubrilon is here in the States, on the black market. Is there anything we can do about it?"

"Not without causing a diplomatic incident, I'm sure," Dr. McGee replied.

"But we can't stay quiet about something like this! And anyway, if somebody doesn't do something, who's to say another criminal won't get his hands on Lubrilon anyway?" Wally argued.

"What would you recommend then, Wally?" the supervisor asked him.

Wally considered this for a moment. "Well…I think I know a couple of people who can help out with this," he said finally.

"Who?" Dr. McGee inquired.

"Just a few good sources, that's all," Wally answered. "They should be able to deal with this without raising any red flags internationally. They're that good."

"Ah, friends in higher places, eh, Wally?" the supervisor asked, a note of wonder and admiration in his voice.

Wally smirked. "You've no idea."

"All right, then—I'll leave it up to you," the supervisor told him. "You don't have a problem with that, Dr. McGee?"

"Well, if he says these…friends of his can do the job right, then I suppose we've got no other option right now," Dr. McGee agreed, although sounding a little reluctant. "Just mind yourself, is all you do, Mr. West."

"Got it." Wally smirked again. "I'll keep you posted. Later."

And with that he hung up the phone. Satisfied, he turned and headed back to his seat, where his fries and second burger were still on the plate waiting for him. "Of course, first I'll have to finish all of this…"

----------

_**Underneath the streets of Central City, 8:55 a.m., at that moment**_

In the darkness of the underground corridors of the subway, the silhouette of a massive figure with what appeared to be blades sticking out from all over his body moved swiftly. "All right," he hissed, his voice gravelly. "Just a couple more minutes…then it'll be show-time."

_**CHAPTER 15 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 16 COMING UP!**_

(NOTE TO BE MADE: Mr. Terrific's skepticism toward magic in this chapter is a direct throwback to the comics, where he was an atheist (and personally speaking, I lost a lot of respect for him when I first found this out). Also, Lubrilon is a chemical polymer from the comics, but since I have no idea where it came from or what it was made of there, I made up a few things for it here. And I'm sorry, but I just couldn't resist throwing in a little reference to Cadmus—it was just waiting to happen, I suppose.)


	16. Chapter 16

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 16

_**Central City, 9:00 a.m.**_

Light-gray clouds began to gather in the blue sky above Central City's streets and buildings. They clustered together, quite subtly, but not so much so that they couldn't be seen if one just looked up. And even if they were seen, they could probably pass for regular old sun-blocking clouds that would soon go on their merry way and let the sunshine come down like it was supposed to.

That is, of course, if those same gray clouds weren't accompanied by a small, ominous rumbling noise in the upper atmosphere.

It was the rumbling that caused the civilians walking around outdoors to look up. And when they did, the pleasant expressions on the faces of many changed to scowls.

"Oh, man…it's gonna rain!"

"Come, sweetie, let's hurry and get indoors. It'll start pouring down pretty soon."

One of the police patrol cars was traveling along that street at that moment. Both of the officers inside the car were wearing Protector suits…and neither looked happy about the change in the weather. "Man, how soon does our patrol shift end?" one asked. "I'd rather be back at the station with a cup of coffee right now, instead of out here where it's gonna rain in no time!"

"Deal with it," his partner, his eyes kept clearly on the road as he drove, replied sternly. "It's only rain that's coming; you're making it sound like everything in the world is gonna go wrong now."

_**BLAM!**_

All at once, without any warning, the car lurched to one side, skidding crazily! "WHOA!" the cop at the wheel yelled out as he tried, desperately, to steady the vehicle. But there was little he could do as, out of control, the car spun around and then flipped over, slamming full-tilt into a lamppost. That post, abruptly belt out of shape by the amount of force suddenly applied to its side, fell right over onto the street with a crunch of metal and glass from its bulb, even as horrified civilians scurried to get out of the way.

The wreck that used to be the police cruiser landed upside down on the ground, next to the base of the fallen lamppost; those people who were close enough ran over to see what had happened. As they got closer, all at once the passenger door was kicked outward, and both cops managed to crawl out of the wreckage. "Ugh…you just had to quote Murphy just now, didn't you?" the passenger cop asked crossly, even as—at that very moment—the first few drops of rain began to fall.

His partner, already having steadied himself somewhat, examined the car. "What the…check this out!" He indicated one of the front tires. "Looks like we got ourselves a blow-out here."

The first cop looked at the ruined tire; indeed, it had blown out. "Did the mechanics forget to service the vehicles again or something?" he asked, very disgruntled, holding his arm over his head in an obviously futile attempt to ward off the raindrops that were now coming in greater volume with every second.

The second cop examined the blown-out tire. "Um…actually, I don't think they're at fault…look at this." He reached into the tire's rim and then—he pulled out what seemed to be a razor-edged disc!

All at once, from the middle of the street, chunks of gravel inexplicably burst upward in several places, repeatedly. As the gathered onlookers beheld this new phenomenon, one of them suddenly let out a yelp of pain and clutched his arm. "Something's hit me!" he cried.

Turning to look at the bystander who'd just spoke, the second cop's attention was just as suddenly drawn to something glittering on the ground near the man's foot. "Another disc…?" He held up the one he'd retrieved from the car's tire rim, then lanced at the disc now embedded in the ground, stained with blood. "EVERYONE TAKE COVER!"

Just as he said that, more discs burst out of the ground, quite close to the edge of the crowd. Now the civilians didn't need any further warning, they all turned and ran for nearby doorways, screaming even as the discs narrowly missed several of them and landed on the ground, embedding themselves quite deeply into the gravel. The two cops, meanwhile, ran for cover themselves, even as they drew their guns.

"Oh, great!" the first cop snarled as they stopped near a manhole cover on the sidewalk. "Now what's next?"

And then—

Both cops suddenly found themselves airborne, along with the manhole cover, as the ground beneath their feet exploded upwards in a hail of gravel that was contested only by the rain itself. Landing hard on the ground, they managed to pick themselves back up just as swiftly. "Ow…good thing these Protector suits absorb shock damage…" the first cop remarked even as he touched his bruised shoulder and winced.

But the second cop was practically sitting back on his butt; fear was suddenly written all over his face. "Who…or what…is THAT?"

For now, right near the gaping hole in the sidewalk, there stood a tall, menacing-looking man. Or, at least, it seemed to be a man, for it was fairly easy to see that he had a face, and much more obvious that he had arms and legs like a man. However, his additional appearance gave him more of the look of a tank. A big blue tank with blades. It appeared to be armor, except…what kind of armor glistened the way only a recently-sharpened knife could? And, again, there were the obvious blades, set in place on his gauntlets and on the sides of his boots. And as the rain appeared to slide off him without leaving any watery fragments, a bolt of lightning far overhead suddenly crashed; the brief burst of light illuminated the man's armor, emphasizing the sharp edges built on the headpiece, shoulders, gauntlet knuckles and belt.

The stranger now spoke to the two officers. "Aw, c'mon, guys, what's the matter? Never seen a guy tearing up a street before?"

Gathering their wits, the two cops stood up and pointed their guns at him. "I-identify yourself!" the first cop said, trying his best to make his voice sound authoritative even though the fellow before him stood a few feet taller than he or his partner.

The stranger grinned maliciously. "Identify myself? Hmmm, I hadn't thought about that much…" He glanced down at his armor. "Well, how about you call me by the name of this getup I've got here…Razer!"

He then held up one of his gauntleted fists—and from that gauntlet he suddenly fired two razor-discs at the cops! Before either of them could react, the discs sliced cleanly through their firearms, cutting them in two—and in the process, embedded themselves into the officers' armor!

Initially shocked at the fact that their weapons were now useless, it took the two cops a moment to realize just how deeply into their armor the discs had managed to cut. Wincing, one of them reached for his ribcage, where the disc that had gotten him had managed to penetrate his flesh quite deeply through his Protector suit. "We're in trouble…!" he gasped out, grimacing as he said it.

"Three points to Officer Obvious!" Razer yelled out, charging at the two cops.

----------

"Maaaaaan…" Wally groaned as he stood at the doorway of the burger joint and watched the rain shower outside. "Just what I need right now…just wonderful…"

A cold breeze blew past him, carrying a couple of raindrops with it; inadvertently he shivered and pushed his hands deeper into his pockets. "Just take it easy, Wally, it's only a little cold weather," he consoled himself. "It's not like it could get much worse than this."

Just then something odd caught his eye—around a nearby street corner, several people were running and screaming hysterically, in spite of the rain. "Huh? What's got them so worked up?" Wally asked in amazement.

A second later, he got his answer as a car got flung into view, landing heavily on the ground. "Okay…that's not normal," he muttered.

A moment passed…then heavy footsteps could be heard stomping around the corner. And then…a giant in blue bladed armor emerged, laughing. "Come on, you pansies!" he yelled. "Is that all you've got?"

Eyes narrowing, Wally turned and hurried back inside the burger joint, heading for the door of the restroom. A few moments later, out he emerged in the scarlet threads of the Flash, dashing back outside at super-speed. "Hey! Big, blue and ugly!" he called to the armored giant as he emerged in the middle of the wet street.

The stranger glanced over at him. "Oh, wow…so the Flash has come out to play, huh?"

"I kinda doubt playing in the rain is the healthiest thing to do," Flash replied, citing the rain pouring down on them. "Oh, and by the way, all that water on that suit of yours…" He took in the blades outfitted all over the armor, with rainwater droplets glistening on them. "I know a certain razor company that's gonna sue you for copyright infringement."

"A real class act, aren't you?" the other man grinned. "I like that. Too bad I have to kill you."

"Well, couldn't you have waited until the weather was a little better, at least?" Flash inquired, looking at the rain with a little disdain. "Because my suit's not quite as waterproof as yours might be."

"You won't have to worry about that much longer—the dead don't have any cares! Now…" The man held up his two gauntleted fists. "Time for you to be sliced and diced by Razer!"

Immediately, he fired several razor-discs from his gauntlets at Flash. The speedster, of course, was much faster, dashing out of the way in time. "Were you even trying there?" he inquired.

"Just warming up!" Razer assured him, firing more razor-discs at him.

----------

_**Central City Police Department, 9:17 a.m.**_

"All available officers, move out! There're reports of a meta-human causing trouble downtown! Repeat, all available officers, scramble!"

Seated in his office, Hunter heard the urgent announcement over the station's P.A. system. "All available officers, huh?" he asked aloud, grabbing his cane and standing up. "Well, fine, then. Let's have the cops be the real heroes this time…" He glanced over at the newspaper clippings of Flash on the wall. "Sorry, freak, but you're not going to steal the show THIS time! Not on my watch!"

----------

_**Elsewhere in Central City, 9:18 a.m., at that moment**_

"All units, we've just received reports of meta-human activity over at the City Center. Intercept immediately."

The police scanner blared out the alert as Chyre and Morillo continued their patrol. "What kind of timing do these guys have, huh?" Morillo grumbled. "And in the middle of a rainy day, too…"

"We'd better not waste time! Hang on!" Chyre promptly slammed on the brakes while simultaneously spinning the steering wheel, causing the car to do a full 180 degrees in the middle of the street. Then he stomped on the accelerator, and moments later shot off in the designated direction.

----------

_**Elsewhere in Central City, 9:19 a.m., in the meantime**_

Flash ran around dodging Razer's disc projectiles, coming close to slipping on the wet street a few times in the process. "Whoops!" he shouted as, on one step, he yet again nearly took a tumble; however, he righted himself just in time to duck and avoid a few more razor-discs before dashing around again.

"You can't dodge my discs forever!" Razer yelled, firing off a couple more as he spoke. "Sooner or later one of them will have to cut you!"

"Not if I take out that armor of yours first!" Flash replied, even as he dodged the razor-discs yet again.

Running around and behind Razer, Flash began to vibrate his hand at super-speed. Zipping forward, he drew his arm back and swiftly punched forward—

—but as his fist made contact with the armor, to Flash's astonishment it seemed to slide off altogether, causing no damage at all! "Whoa!" he cried out, the momentum of his failed attack causing him to fall on his face.

Razer grinned and reached down in one fluid movement, picking Flash up by his ankle. "Surprise, surprise, little man!" he gloated. "That's the beautiful thing about this armor, see; you can't get a decent grip on me anywhere except on my blades! And my blades can cut through solid steel, so grabbing them isn't recommended! Although that's probably gonna be the least of your problems right now…"

Lifting his arm above his head, he began to spin Flash around with incredible force. Unable to retaliate, Flash soon found himself sailing as Razer flung him right into the side of a building, smashing the blocks in the wall out of place. "Ow…" he flinched as he landed on the ground, block fragments and dust all over his body.

Heavy foot-stomps stampeding his way caught his attention; he rolled out of the way just in time as Razer punched down at him and missed, breaking up the ground in the process. "Oh, so you wanna play cat-and-mouse, is that it?" Razer asked.

Flash stood upright as best he could, flinching a little as the pain in his back from being thrown into the wall resurfaced. "Maybe…"

"My FAVORITE game!" Razer bellowed, an even bigger grin on his face than before.

Flash tensed. _Okay, this is so gonna suck…_

----------

_**Blacksmith Corporation, 9:22 a.m.**_

Amunet Black entered her office and sat down, swiveling her chair in the direction of the wall on her left. Reaching into a pocket, she pulled out a black remote control and, aiming it at the wall, touched a button—and in response, the wall parted in two, revealing a huge TV screen installed behind it. "Now…let's see how the demonstration is faring…"

Switching the TV on, she was just in time to see Razer firing more razor-discs at Flash, who in turn was racing away from them. "Hmmm…very interesting," she mused.

There was a knock at the door at that moment. "Enter!" she called, without turning her eyes away from the screen.

The butler came in moments later. "My apologies for disturbing you, madam," he said, bowing respectfully. "The clients are already tuned in to the satellite frequency, and are all watching the demonstration at this very moment."

"Any response to us from them?" Ms. Black asked, still intently watching the action on the screen.

"The clients from Kasnia are already showing favorable interest in the merchandise," the butler informed her. His eye caught a movement on the screen, where Razer was just ripping a fire hydrant out of its place in the ground and hurling it at Flash, who barely avoided it at the last moment.

"Ah, Kasnia…always ready for weapons of potential destruction, aren't they now?" Ms. Black commented, grinning a little as she watched Flash attempt to pick up said fire hydrant, spin around at super-speed and fling the object at Razer, only to have the bigger man knock it away with barely any effort. "Then this will be just a toy to them…but a very expensive and worthwhile toy it'll be."

The butler nodded. "I'll go and oversee the payment transactions with the clients now, madam."

"Yes, you do that," Ms. Black agreed. Nodding again, the butler turned and exited the room, leaving her to watch the fight on the TV with an ever-growing smile on her face, even as lightning suddenly flashed outside in the distance.

----------

_**Elsewhere in Central City, 9:25 a.m., in the meantime**_

Flash zipped from here to there, from left to right and back again, and up and off walls as Razer continued firing more of his razor-discs at him. "You can't run forever, fast-boy! You're bound to slip up sometime soon!" Razer vowed.

"Guess again, lard-breath!" Flash shot back.

Glancing around, the speedster took note of where Razer's discs had embedded themselves into the street and on the walls of the nearby buildings. Skidding to a sudden halt, he turned and ran right towards where he saw them, picking them up as he went. "All right—let's see how you like your own blades!" he cried, chucking them at his opponent as fast as he was picking them up.

Razer, however, didn't seem much concerned. Even as the blades whizzed toward him at super-speed, he dashed right forward into them—and they bounced right off his armor and whizzed off in different directions, leaving not so much as a scratch on him. As Flash's eyes widened in surprise at this, he failed to notice one of the deflected blades heading right for him…until he suddenly felt cold steel followed by searing pain in the right side of his waist. "Aaagh!" he cried out as the force of the blade hitting him inadvertently spun him around, causing him to fall and slide along the wet street.

Walking over to the fallen superhero, Razer raised one heavy boot and stomped on Flash's newly-acquired injury; Flash winced, sucking breath in between clenched teeth, and groaned in his throat. "Awww, what's the matter? Fall down and hurt yourself?" Razer jeered. "Well, good—and it's gonna start hurting a whole lot more!"

He reached down, grabbing Flash around the neck with one hand, and hoisted him in the air so they were at eye-level; Flash's feet were several inches off the ground as a result. "Now, do I slice you up like beef jerky, or stab you like a pincushion?" Razer wondered. "Hmmm…eh, who cares!" And then, raising his free hand, he slashed across Flash's chest with the sharp blades on his gauntlet.

Flash couldn't help the cry that escaped his lips as he felt the pointed edge of the blades ripping into his suit and tearing open his flesh underneath. Choking as the hand around his neck closed up tighter, he attempted to kick at Razer's chest—only to have the other man spitefully slash his thighs and knees and choke him even more with his constricting hand in the process. Then Razer reached forward with his slashing hand and pressed tightly on Flash's side, where the razor-disc had struck him; Flash's eyes squeezed shut and his mouth opened up wide in a loud howl of added agony.

"Guess you're really not all that, after all, huh, buddy?" Razer asked him. "Don't you worry, though…I'll make sure to be the first to put flowers on your grave."

The hand around Flash's throat got even tighter as Razer raised his other fist, the blades on that fist shining murderously as lightning struck high above…

_THWACK!_

Something hit Razer—HARD—in the back of the head; even though his head was protected by the sharpened headpiece that was part of his armor, the blow was unexpected enough and strong enough to jerk him off-balance a little. "Huh?" he exclaimed, turning his head around. "Okay, who's the wise guy?"

For answer he got a huge rock, dead-center on his nose—for his face was the only part of him still exposed and unprotected by his armor. Letting out a gasp, he released his hold on Flash and involuntarily put a hand to his face. "AGH! Hey, cut it out!"

Sagging to the ground from his injuries, Flash lifted his head and looked up. "Hey…would you look at that…"

Several feet away were a number of the civilians that had previously taken cover when Razer first appeared…and joining them by the second, in spite of the pouring rain, were more civilians, emerging from the nearby buildings where they'd kept low, watching the battle between their city's protector and this hulking brute of a man. "You leave Flash alone, you creep!" a man shouted angrily, brandishing a brick in each hand.

"Yeah!" another yelled, wielding a heavy-looking golf club.

"You mess with Flash, and you mess with all of Central City!" a woman added her voice, even as she clutched a crowbar in both hands; and the rest of the crowd screamed its agreement with that sentiment.

Razer felt his nose; it was certainly bloody, what with the damage the rock had done. But without so much as a flinch, he forcefully set it back in its proper position with a very audible snap. "So I'm messing with all of Central City, is that it?" he asked. Then he grinned. "Works for me."

"No…!" Flash held up his hand in a futile attempt to stop the villain.

But there was no stopping Razer, it seemed. With surprising speed despite his size and the bulk of the armor, he charged headlong into the impromptu mob, flailing his fists and knocking several of the people away. A few attempted to fight back, but weren't given the chance as they soon found themselves writhing in pain on the ground. The man wielding the golf club attempted to strike at Razer—but Razer, in turn, slashed the club's head clean off, leaving the man with nothing but a useless pole. "Uh-oh…" the man managed to say right before Razer yanked him off the ground and flung him into a nearby wall.

"Freeze! Hold it right there!"

A loud, commanding voice shouted into a bullhorn from directly behind Razer, causing him to turn…and he saw, behind the grounded and injured Flash, a whole squadron of police cars. Standing by those cars were numerous officers, some wearing raincoats, some without, most wearing the Protector suits…and all of them seemingly armed to the teeth with handguns, shotguns and rifles, all aimed at the hulking villain. "Get on your knees and put your hands on top of your head!" the cop with the bullhorn yelled. "Do it NOW!"

"Make me!" Razer shouted back defiantly, turning in the cops' direction.

"Surrender now, or we will open fire!" the bullhorn cop demanded. "All civilians in the vicinity, get clear!"

Those civilians that could stand after Razer's assault did their best to move away quickly, limping or hunched over in the process. Flash, meanwhile, was starting to raise himself up, as slashed up as he was. "Ow…man, what a way to start the day," he groaned.

"Flash, stay down! We don't want to shoot you by accident!" the bullhorn cop advised him. Then to Razer, "For the last time, you, put your hands on top of your head and surrender!"

Razer snorted. "Like your little popguns are gonna frighten me off," he declared crisply. "Bring it on!"

"TAKE HIM DOWN!" the bullhorn cop exploded.

At once a huge burst of gunfire exploded from all the officers. Lying flat to avoid getting shot himself, Flash looked from one side to the other as the cops emptied their magazines, reloaded, fired and emptied the new clips, reloaded, and fired again…and as Razer crossed his hands in front of his face, the bullets bouncing off his armor while leaving almost no impressions whatsoever. "What IS this guy—invincible?" he groaned.

Little by little, the gunfire lessened in intensity, then ceased altogether. And still Razer stood there, his hands crossed in front of his face. All around him lay bullets that had been deflected off him, though quite a few were stuck on his armor. And all around the ground near the cops' feet were their spent shells.

Then Razer straightened up, brushing himself off—and as he did this, the bullets that had stuck onto his armor got taken off with ease, revealing that where they'd struck him had left extremely minor dents and no real penetration damage. "Impossible…!" one of the cops managed to whisper.

Razer grinned. "My turn." And he aimed his gauntlets at the suddenly panicking officers, and fired his razor-discs…

----------

_**Blacksmith Corporation, 9:35 a.m.**_

Ms. Black still sat there, watching on the screen as pandemonium ran through the crowd of policemen even as Razer fired his discs from his gauntlets at them. "If the suit's design alone didn't impress the clients, THIS will for sure," she spoke softly, shaking with laughter as she did. "Yes, Razer…keep the demonstration going a little longer…and the clients will pay immensely just to have this type of power in _their _hands…"

_**CHAPTER 16 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 17 COMING UP!**_

(NOTE TO BE MADE: No, Razer is NOT an original character that I created. He was an actual villain who fought Wally when he was just getting started in his career as the third Flash in the comics. Just want to make that clear from now.)


	17. Chapter 17

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 17

_**Central City, 9:37 a.m.**_

The cab carefully maneuvered around a sharp corner at an intersection, even as the rain continued to pour down, then went on a highway ramp and flowed easily into the line of traffic. Inside, the driver stole a few glances through his rearview mirror at his passenger. "You seem real determined to be out and about in this kind of weather, lady," he remarked. "Me, I'm only out here 'cause I've gotta make a living…what's your excuse?"

In the back seat, Linda was glancing out the window even as the question was posed to her—and she was dressed in a casual blue blouse and black jeans. "I'm just supposed to meet somebody, that's all," she replied. "Although if I'd known the weather was going to be like this, I probably would've rescheduled."

"A little late for that now, though," the driver pointed out. "So, Betsy's Coffee Shop, you said? Shouldn't be much further from here…another couple of minutes at the most, if traffic isn't slowed because of this rain we've got here."

"A nice hot cappuccino should do the trick once I get there," Linda commented.

"Yeah, Betsy's is a nice little place to go," the driver agreed. "It's where I usually go when I'm on my break, you know. Comes highly recommended."

"I'll keep that in mind," and Linda smiled.

At length they pulled off the ramp and headed on a downward slope, onto an avenue heading into the center of town—and the driver flinched. "Aw, man! Would you look at THIS!" he groaned.

Right in front of them was a very long and congested line of traffic, with impatient drivers honking their horns and shouting loudly and very angrily. "Looks like traffic's been slowed, after all," Linda sighed. "Well, it's fine. I can take it from here—walking's no problem, if Betsy's isn't far from here."

"You sure about that, lady?" the driver asked dubiously. "It's pouring rain out there right now, in case you forgot."

Linda reached down to the floor and held up her umbrella. "No worries; I've got my—"

_CRASH!_

The driver's head automatically whipped up. "Whoa! What was that?" he exclaimed.

"It was just up ahead…was there an accident or something?" Linda wondered.

Opening the cab door, Linda stuck her umbrella outside and opened it up, moments later emerging under it so she could see what was happening. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. "Oh, my god…"

About six cars up ahead, what appeared to be an upside-down police cruiser had seemingly been thrown into the side of a passenger vehicle. The second car's doors on the other side were wide open; close by on the ground, drenched by the rain and badly shaken, were a couple and two small children. As Linda stared in shock, she failed to notice that the umbrella had slipped from her hand.

The cab driver was sticking his head out of his window, taking in the scene up ahead even as passersby ran over to aid the assaulted car's former inhabitants. "What happened up there? Those people all right?" he asked anxiously.

The next thing they knew, from the nearby avenue just opposite the wreckage, several police officers could be seen flying and landing heavily on the ground as if they'd been thrown. "Okay, I gotta check this out!" Linda made to sprint forward.

"Hey, hey, wait! What about my fare?" the driver called to her.

Linda stopped short, suddenly appearing sheepish. "Oh…yeah." She quickly reached into her purse, pulled out a few bills and handed them to the driver, at the same time reaching down and grabbing her dropped umbrella. "Keep the change!" she cried to him as she now ran off.

----------

"Come on, you guys—I'm getting BORED here!" Razer yelled as he slammed both hands, palms down, into the sidewalk. Grunting with exertion, he tore out a huge chunk of the ground and, hefting it over his shoulder, flung it at those cops that were still standing. Immediately they scrambled for cover as the gravelly missile slammed into one of their cruisers, causing the car to flip over onto its side from the force of the impact.

Not far away, Flash was on one knee, flinching as his bleeding wounds stung from the exposure to the cold air and the rain. "This is just not my day," he muttered as he reached a hand to his ear and the comm.-link that rested within.

----------

_**Justice League Watchtower, 9:42 a.m.**_

"Watchtower here," Mr. Terrific responded to the comm.-link frequency.

"This is Flash," the voice came on, sounding strained. "I need backup down here in Central City now! There's a really tough guy here, and he's giving me and the cops a bad time!"

"Anybody we know?" Mr. Terrific asked.

"No, it's a new guy, calls himself Razer," Flash replied, a hint of urgency in his voice. "He's got super-strength and some kind of armor with blades on it! And there're plenty of serious injuries here—cops, civilians, and ME!"

"Understood," Mr. Terrific nodded. "I'm sending down reinforcements shortly. Hang tight."

"Well, hurry it up—I'm not sure how much longer we can hold this guy off before he shreds us!" Flash yelled.

Just at that moment the doors to the monitor station slid open, and in walked Booster Gold, Skeets hovering near his shoulder. Seeing him, Mr. Terrific beckoned to him. "Booster, we got a situation down in Central City, and right now you're the only available Leaguer on call. You up for it?"

Booster shrugged. "Yeah, sure, anything," he answered. "What is it?"

"A possible meta-human attack in the city," Mr. Terrific told him. "A guy wearing armor with blades and possessing super-strength, and he's got Flash and the cops there pinned down. Your mission is to go down there and lend whatever support you can, as well as protect the civilians."

Booster made a face. "You're not talking about crowd control, are you?"

"Get to it, Booster!" Mr. Terrific snapped. "Time's of the essence here!"

"All right, all right, I'm going," Booster grunted as he flew down to the teleporter pods.

----------

_**Central City, 9:43 a.m.**_

The two squad cars pulled up alongside each other, close to where Razer had first emerged. From one car, Chyre and Morillo emerged with guns at the ready; from the other came Hunter Zolomon. "Zolomon? What're you doing here?" Chyre called to him.

Hunter scoffed. "There was a call at the station for all available cops to come deal with this situation, so here I am," he replied. "And anyway, do you really think I'm going to let the Flash take all the credit for our police work?"

"Well, whatever, man," Morillo shook his head. "Let's just see if we can't bring this meta-human in, whoever it is."

"You think you'll be able to keep up, Zolomon?" Chyre inquired.

Hunter glanced down at his bad leg. "Never mind about me—you go on ahead, and I'll be right behind you," he replied. "If I can stay back a distance and see which meta-human this is, I should be able to give you an idea of what his motivation is, if he's in my files."

"Got it," Morillo nodded. "C'mon, Chyre, let's hustle!"

----------

Razer was now holding one cop, wearing a Protector suit, by the throat. "So much for your stupid armor, kiddies," he sneered as he flung the cop to the ground. "Mine is far better than the tin-cans you've got on!" And as if to emphasize the point, a flash of lightning shot across the sky, followed seconds later by a boom of thunder.

All along the ground lay several groaning officers, most of them wearing Protector suits; only now, those suits were either badly dented, or slashed nearly to ribbons, or were sporting several of Razer's razor-discs stuck in them. Close by, more cops were sprawled out across those of their cars that had not been forcibly overturned. "And this is the mighty police force of Central City!" Razer mocked them. "Well, guess what? I OWN this town now!"

"Not yet…you don't…"

Turning, Razer saw Flash gingerly standing up. "Oh, you're still around? You don't know when to quit, do you?" he asked.

Suddenly—a shimmer of light shone beside Flash, and in the next instant there appeared a man in a blue and gold suit. "Never fear, everyone; Booster Gold's here!" he cried.

Flash made a face at this. "Booster? Terrific sent _you?_ What happened to Superman or one of those other guys?"

"I was the only one on call when you called in," Booster answered, sounding somewhat offended. "And as for Superman, he went off with Dr. Light and Green Lantern on a space mission an hour ago. Sorry, but you're stuck with me for now."

Flash shook his head. "Well, whatever—as long as you can hold that guy off for a few minutes while I try to recover…"

"Hey, you—Blondie."

Booster turned to face Razer, who was regarding him with some curiosity. "Yeah, that's right…I've seen you on TV," the hulking villain remarked. "Booster Gold, right? You used to do all those ads, didn't you?"

"Used to," Booster replied. "That was long ago."

"Well, I better tell you right now before you die—you sucked!" Razer swiftly held up his gauntlets, firing his discs at Booster.

The blond-haired hero held up one of his arms, however—and from his gold armlet a sort of force-field appeared, easily deflecting the approaching discs! "Come on! You're gonna have to do better than that against me!" he taunted Razer, readying himself to fly forward.

"No! Hang on!" Flash called after him—too late.

Booster flew straight at Razer, drawing one fist back…but as he punched forward, Razer quickly caught that fist in one hand, retaliating with a solid punch of his own that sent Booster flying backwards. Booster skidded along the ground for several feet, but quickly jumped back up. "Not too bad," he remarked, shaking his head briefly to clear it. "Think you can stand up to THIS?"

"Dude, wait!" Flash called to him.

But again Booster flew forward, drawing his fist back—and this time, his armlet began to glow bright yellow. Seeing this, Razer braced himself for the assault…but all at once Booster stopped in mid-flight and punched forward, firing a bright yellow beam from his armlet straight at the villain. Not expecting that, Razer took the attack straight to the face, staggering backwards. "OW!" he yelled out, obviously enraged.

"What's the matter? Can't handle pain so well?" Booster teased.

"Grrr…handle THIS!" Razer spun around, grabbed the front fender of a nearby overturned police car, then hefted the whole car up and flung it at Booster! Astonished at this show of strength, Booster had little time to react as the car slammed into him, knocking him down to the ground even as the car itself continued on its trajectory…

----------

In order to avoid the heat of the battle zone, Linda had maintained a respectable distance from where the combatants were, standing on a street corner several hundred feet away and watching the whole thing unfold. And right now she was currently on a cell-phone, shielding it from the rain with her umbrella as much as possible. "Marla, it's Linda! Listen, get the news-crew to come downtown! There's a story playing out right in front of…"

She glanced up at that moment, just in time to see a car hurtling straight for her location. "…my eyes…"

----------

Watching in dismay as Razer flung the car and knocked Booster down with it, Flash spun his head to follow the car's path…

…and saw a familiar person standing right in the path of the car! _That…that can't be…Linda?_

At that moment everything seemed to come to a standstill. The raindrops, the car, Booster's fall, Razer, the scattering civilians, even the shuffling cops on the ground…it all appeared to cease moving.

Forcing himself to his feet, and wincing from his injuries as he did, Flash turned and ran. As hard as he could. Past the frozen-in-midair car. Toward Linda, seemingly frozen to the spot with fright. He grabbed her, lifting her up in his arms and moving her further away and out of harm's way, even as the car slammed into the side of the wall where she'd been standing only moments before, chunks of brick seeming to be scraped off the wall in the ensuing crash in slow motion.

And all of that, for Flash and for anyone else watching, occurred within the space of three seconds.

The loud noise of the car hitting the ground and crashing to a stop into another wall brought Flash back to reality. He became aware again. Aware that he was standing in the middle of the street, rain pouring down on him, the wreckage of a police car right behind him. Aware that he was standing there with a young woman in his arms, her hands wrapped tightly around his neck for dear life.

He looked down at her and grinned. "Hey there, pretty lady."

"Uh…hi." She blushed and smiled a little, in spite of the shock of what had almost happened to her.

"You all right?" Flash asked her.

"Thanks to you." Linda then noticed something. "Oh, no, you're hurt!"

Flash glanced down at what she was looking at—the gaping tear in his costume's chest. "It's all good—I'm a fast healer," he assured her, setting her onto her feet again. "Meanwhile, you think you can get yourself somewhere a little safer for now?"

"Sure." Linda nodded. "Thanks again."

"Don't mention it!" Flash then turned and zoomed back toward the fight, a whoosh of wind blowing Linda's hair around in his wake.

----------

Booster sat up, the rain pouring down on his face as he groaned. "Ooohh…" he grunted, rubbing his forehead where the car had struck him. "Great…my visor's cracked…"

A whoosh of air emerged next to him, accompanied by a peeved Flash. "You gonna listen to me NOW?" the speedster asked.

"If you've got a plan in mind, I'm all ears," Booster replied.

Flash narrowed his eyes. "Razer said a little while back that the only place he can be grabbed is his blades—and the rest of his armor's too slippery to grip. But from what I can tell, there IS one part of his armor that's got a weakness…"

Booster looked carefully at Razer. "Hmmm…yeah, I see it. But how do we make use of it?"

"We improvise!" Flash replied.

"Hey! What're you boys whispering about over there? Making funeral arrangements, maybe?" Razer called to them.

Now Flash chuckled. "Well, we'd tell you, but I don't think you've got enough brains under all that armor to understand it."

"You tryin' to insult me? Let me show you what happens to anybody who insults me!" Razer bent down low and charged headfirst at the two heroes; but much to his annoyance, Booster merely flew out of harm's way while Flash dashed off to the side. Raising his gauntlets, Razer fired more razor-discs skyward—but Booster, seeing them coming, activated his force-field again and deflected them.

"Hold him steady, Booster!" Flash cried, backing off a little.

"Yeah, got it!" Booster answered…and he swiftly flew down behind Razer, wrapping his arms around the larger man's neck, at the same time levitating both of them a few inches off the ground. "Okay, big guy, you're not going anywhere now!"

"HEY! What're you doing? Lemme go!" Razer yelled out, kicking out at empty air and trying to reach behind him to dislodge Booster.

"Okay, keep him there! I'll be right back!" Flash announced—and then turned and sped off.

"Hurry up, man! I don't know how much longer I'll be able to hold him!" Booster called after him, tightening his grip around Razer's neck.

----------

From a nearby avenue, Chyre, Morillo and Hunter watched as Flash ran off at super-speed. "Where's HE going?" Chyre asked, slightly puzzled.

"Who cares about him? Look at the cops over there!" Hunter indicated the fallen and battered officers.

"Whoa…looks like the Protector armor didn't do them much good," Morillo remarked.

Hunter scowled at the sight of this. "Thanks to that guy in blue armor, I take it…anybody know who he is?"

"Never seen him before," Chyre replied. "But whoever he is, he's sure done some damage here…"

"Good thing Flash and that other Justice League guy are handling things…I doubt there's anything much we can do at this point," Morillo sighed.

Hunter's scowl grew deeper.

----------

Flash sped along the street, very nearly slipping on the wet pavement once or twice. Then suddenly he caught sight of what he was looking for. "Yes! The vet's office!" he exclaimed, rushing for the entrance.

Seconds later he burst in, startling the pet owners and their animals waiting to be served. "Excuse me!" he cried to the receptionist at the desk. "Where do you keep your tranquilizers? This is a major emergency!"

"Oh!" The receptionist was astonished at the speedster's sudden entrance. "Uh, around the back in the supply room…" And she pointed him in the designated direction.

"Thanks!" Flash raced off toward the supply room, re-emerging a moment later with a box of syringes. "I'll pay you back for these!" he called as he ran back through the entrance and out into the rain again.

"Um…okay…" The receptionist replied, even as she, the pet owners, and even the pets themselves stared in bemusement at Flash's sudden entrance and exit.

----------

"Come on…come on…!" Booster fought to keep his grip around Razer's neck.

"Let me go now, punk!" Razer snarled, ramming his elbow repeatedly into Booster's ribs and eliciting numerous grunts from the other man in response.

All at once a blur of red emerged—and there stood Flash. "Drop him, Booster!" he cried.

Booster complied, releasing Razer and flying a little ways off while holding his ribs in the process. Razer, meanwhile, landed on his feet—and found Flash standing very close in front of him. "Wha…?"

Moving so quickly that all that could be seen was a blur, Flash pulled out syringe after syringe from the box he was holding and stabbed them into Razer's neck, cheeks, and the top of his head—the only parts of him not protected by his armor. "Roll over!" he shouted, jumping back as soon as he'd emptied the box.

Feeling numerous syringes in his head, neck and face, Razer gritted his teeth. "Why, you…little…"

He took a step forward—and blinked. For now, inexplicably, there was not just one Flash in front of his eyes, but three—no, five—no, they were multiplying and getting blurry. "Uh…who's the real one…?" he muttered in confusion, his voice getting slurry…

…and then he staggered about a little, finally falling on his back with a heavy CLANK as his armor hit the pavement.

"Heh…good boy." Flash nodded—and then winced and went down on one knee, clutching his leg and chest injuries from before. "Okay…wound stinging, not good…"

Booster, still holding his ribs, flew to the ground and approached Flash, warily skirting Razer's body in the process. "What did you do?" he wondered. "What were in those needles?"

"Tranquilizers—the strongest the vet's office had," Flash answered, panting from the exertion. "He'll be out of it for a couple of hours."

"Good—I haven't got the energy to fight him a second time," Booster answered.

"Quit complaining…you didn't fight him as long as I did," Flash rebutted.

"Yeah, well, you're not the only one he's beaten up," answered Booster, and then he flinched. "Oh, man…I just hope my ribs are only bruised…"

"Hey! You guys all right there?"

Looking up, Flash and Booster saw Chyre and Morillo approaching. "Oh…hey, guys," Flash greeted them. "We'll live, at least."

"You'll probably want to get a couple ambulances for these folks around here, though…this guy's given all of us a beating," Booster pointed out.

"Right—I'm on that," and Morillo headed over to the sidewalk where he could be shaded enough to pull out a phone.

Out of the corner of his eye, Flash saw Hunter still standing at the corner. On seeing the hero looking his way, Hunter scowled and turned away, hobbling off on his cane. Flash didn't bother to point it out, just watched as the cop went off. _Hunter…_

----------

_**Blacksmith Corporation, 9:55 a.m.**_

Ms. Black sat in her office, watching the satellite feed of Flash and Booster Gold's victory over Razer. "Hmmm…"

There was a knock at the door. "Enter," she invited.

And in came her butler. "Madam, the clients are all pleased with the demonstration," he reported. "Already they have wired their payment to the designated account."

"Then Razer's defeat just now wasn't a total loss." Ms. Black smirked. "Have the technicians prepare more models of the Razer armor for distribution to our clients."

"Construction has already begun, madam," the butler informed her. "They will be ready for shipping first thing tomorrow morning."

"Good, very good." And Ms. Black smirked again.

_**CHAPTER 17 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 18 COMING UP!**_


	18. Chapter 18

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 18

_**Central City, 10:00 a.m.**_

The general vicinity of the destruction Razer had caused, and of the subsequent battle, was being cordoned off by lengths upon lengths of police tape, even as passersby crowded the sidewalks to see what was going on and at the same time to keep out of the rain. Numerous ambulance crews in raincoats were carting off the injured civilians and cops on stretchers; those who could walk were helped into one of four ambulances that had converged on the scene. Any cops who had not been injured in Razer's rampage were busy directing the interrupted flow of traffic as best they could. In the meantime, the unconscious Razer himself, now sealed in iron restraints, was being carted with some difficulty into the back of a huge police van.

Standing by the side of the road, just behind the police tape, Flash and Booster watched these whole proceedings. "So, this is a day in the life in Central City, huh?" Booster remarked, still having an arm around his middle to cuddle his ribs as he spoke.

"Nah, not really," Flash admitted, shifting from one foot to the other and back again so as not to put too much pressure on the injuries on his legs. "This guy was new to me, but he was way more brutal than most of my enemies usually are. And a whole lot tougher to beat, too."

"Well, at least, he's beaten now," Booster said somewhat cheerfully. "Now, all we need is to find a nice warm spot away from all this rain, and everything will be nice."

"What _I'm _gonna need is an explanation for why I'm injured the way I am," Flash mumbled ruefully.

"An explanation?" Booster regarded him. "Let me guess…you've got a date?"

"Something like that," Flash sighed. "But if she sees me all battered like this and she puts two and two together, then…"

"Yeah, that would kinda suck, I guess," Booster answered sympathetically. "Makes me glad my identity isn't that much of a secret in my territory…"

"Come on! Chicks love the whole 'man of mystery' thing!" Flash argued.

"You mean, mysterious as in 'Batman' mysterious?" Booster suggested.

Flash made a face at that. "Okay, now _that's_ not mysterious. That's just plain creepy." Then he glanced around. "Just don't let him know I said that."

"Said what?" Booster smirked a little.

Nodding, Flash resumed looking the scene over…and his eyes stopped on a particular sight. "Uh, excuse me a sec…I see somebody I need to talk to."

----------

Not far away, just behind the police tape, the Channel 4 news van was parked close to the curb, its side-door open on the side that the relatively dry sidewalk was on. Inside the van, Linda sat with a blanket wrapped around her shivering frame. "Feels so good…to be dry…" she whispered, though she still shivered a bit.

Beside her, Marla held out a cup of something steaming hot to her. "Here you go, Linda, drink up," she said firmly. "After your little adventure out here in the rain today, you need to get your insides heated up or else you'll catch pneumonia."

Linda gratefully took the cup from Marla, and sipped from it. "Gotta love cocoa on rainy days," she sighed.

Just then there was a streak of red before Linda's eyes—and there stood Flash. "Hey, ladies," he greeted the women.

"Flash," Marla nodded in greeting.

A light blush rose to Linda's cheeks. "Hi," she addressed him. "Uh…thanks for saving my life there."

"Hey, sure thing," Flash replied. "I'm just glad you're safe, that's all."

Marla cut in. "Hey, Linda, that reminds me—what about your date? You can't go to meet him like this…"

In the process of sipping the cocoa again, Linda nearly choked on the hot liquid when Marla said that. "Marla, would you stop embarrassing me like that? It's not a DATE!" she exclaimed.

Then, just as quickly, her expression became thoughtful. "But still…I really can't go to meet him like this…and I don't have any way to call him and cancel our get-together…"

Flash regarded her. "This guy must be something special, huh?"

"Well…he tried to save me and Marla here from the Top at yesterday's press conference at City Hall," Linda answered. "And then he invited me for coffee…but now…"

Flash frowned, seeming to consider something. "Hey…maybe I can help you out."

Linda looked up at that. "You can?"

"Yeah, sure!" Flash nodded. "What if I could carry you home to change, and then carry you back here?"

"R-r-really?" Linda's eyes widened at the offer.

"You sure about that?" Marla asked doubtfully. "I mean, look at you. You're all beat up after your fight with that big blue-armored guy…I think you need to go to a doctor faster than Linda needs to get home to prepare for her date."

"Marla, if you call it that one more time…" Linda said threateningly.

"Hey, no worries," Flash reassured Marla. "I heal pretty much faster than the average guy. And anyway, if I do need a checkup, I can always get one when I head back to the Watchtower later. Their medical staff is top-notch."

"Better than Central City's?" Marla eyed him.

"Nah, Central City's got some good doctors here too," Flash replied. "Still, they're gonna be a little busy with all of Razer's victims here…and I'd rather they spend time with the cops and civilians who tried to help out than on little old me, you know?"

"Oh. Well…that's real considerate of you," Marla said thoughtfully.

"So, what do you say? You accepting the help?" Flash asked Linda.

"Yes! Yes, of course!" she replied eagerly.

"All right, then. Just give me a sec." Flash then turned and dashed off.

----------

A moment later Flash re-emerged beside Booster. "Hey, Booster, can you do me a favor?" he asked. "Think you can help the cops and medics here with cleanup?"

"What about you?" Booster cocked an eyebrow.

"I'm gonna be on a mission of mercy!" Flash replied.

Booster sighed. "Well, all right, I guess. But you owe me big time for this."

"Double-cheeseburgers when we get back to the Watchtower?" Flash suggested. "It's all on me."

Booster seemed to consider this. "Okay, I can go with that." He then turned and headed toward the medics closest to the police tape. "Hey, guys, need a hand over here?"

Satisfied, Flash turned away and put his hand to his comm.-link. "Watchtower…"

"Go ahead, Flash," Mr. Terrific's voice answered him. "What's the situation? Everything all right down there?"

"Yeah, everything's cool now," Flash reported. "Quite a lot of damage, but no casualties. Booster's gonna be here helping with cleanup, and we'll report back to the Watchtower soon as everything down here's handled."

"Got it," Mr. Terrific replied. "Keep me posted."

"Yeah, I hear you," Flash nodded. Then a thought struck him. "Oh, nearly forgot…"

"What is it?"

"There's something I want to have checked out," Flash told him, now speaking in a low and serious tone. "There was a chemical substance made by STAR Labs' Japan branch…name of Lubrilon. Had something to do with a cancelled Cadmus project…and it's likely on the black market here in the States. It's what the Thinker was using to strengthen his Think Tank yesterday."

"Another Cadmus mess to clean up, huh?" Mr. Terrific's tone was one of annoyance. "Well…if it's military, we won't be able to get anywhere near it, and they'll be mighty hush-hush about it in any case. But I tell you what—I'll get the Question on it and see if we can't get a few facts about this Lubrilon."

"Question? That kook?" Flash asked with distaste.

"Unless you know anybody else who makes uncovering conspiracies his hobby. And don't bother suggesting Batman—he's not going to go looking for trouble if he doesn't need to."

Flash sighed reluctantly. "All right, Question it is. And thanks. Flash, out."

----------

Linda finished the last of the cocoa. "So…better now?" Marla asked her.

"Definitely," Linda affirmed. "That cocoa really hit the spot."

Marla chuckled. "You sure it was only the cocoa? Or maybe it was something else…?"

"What are you trying to say?" Linda demanded.

Before Marla could reply, however, the familiar red blur appeared again. "Okay! Ready to go?" Flash asked Linda.

"Yeah, sure," Linda nodded. "Just please don't slip, the roads ARE wet."

She climbed out of the van to stand next to Flash, and he promptly picked her up in his arms. "I'll see you at the station later, Marla, so we can go over my news package for tonight, okay?" Linda told her camerawoman.

"Got it," Marla nodded. "Just don't do anything I wouldn't do, Linda."

"What's THAT supposed to mean?" Linda cried, flustered.

"Uh…" Flash chuckled nervously. "Hey, I think we'd better get going now! Later!"

And with that, still carefully cradling Linda in his arms, he rushed off into the rain. Marla shook her head as she watched them go. "Nope, definitely wasn't just the cocoa," she smirked.

----------

"There you go…easy, now…"

Booster carefully helped one of the injured cops into the ambulance—and felt a rush of wind behind him. Turning, he was just in time to see Flash running off…and, it seemed, with a young woman in his arms. Booster shook his head as he observed this. "Mission of mercy…right…"

----------

_**Justice League Watchtower, 10:15 a.m.**_

Once again, the comm.-link frequency went off. "Watchtower here," Mr. Terrific responded to it.

"Question here, Mr. Terrific," the familiar voice spoke up. "I've got the info you asked for."

"Oh, do you?" Mr. Terrific was immediately interested. "All right, just give me a minute. I'll beam you up."

He touched a few buttons on the console…then moments later, Question appeared in a flash of white light on one of the teleporter pods. "Well, here I am," he announced. "It took me a while, but I got all the information you asked for, on Hunter Zolomon."

"Okay, then; bring it up here," Mr. Terrific invited him.

Stepping off the teleporter, Question headed for the stairs leading to the monitor station's upper platform. A few moments later, he was approaching Mr. Terrific. "Turns out, this little venture proved what I've long suspected—the FBI has a lot of skeletons in their moldy closet," he intoned. "And Hunter Zolomon is just a small chip off the iceberg tip."

He reached into his coat and pulled out a red file-jacket. "Just to let you know how deeply buried this particular little number was—I had to use up every single one of my available FBI pass-codes just to access this type of information, and ironically enough quite a lot of it was information you'd expect the government to be straight-up about," he remarked coolly. "And just to warn you…assuming you have a great deal of compassion, this information might make you feel almost sorry for Zolomon."

"If I read this and it turns out he's got a criminal background that's been covered up for some reason, don't expect to get any sympathy for this guy from me," Mr. Terrific declared flatly.

"Indeed," returned Question. Then he turned his back to Mr. Terrific. "Now, if you'd be so kind as to send me back down to Earth…I need to resume my investigation of those fast food outlets and their ways of mentally controlling the populace."

"Just a minute, Question," Mr. Terrific spoke up. "There's something else I'd like to ask you to do."

Question stopped in his tracks, but didn't turn to look at the other man. "Mind control chips…dangerous…population in peril…" and he tapped his own head ominously for emphasis.

"Actually, what I want you to do just might interest you," Mr. Terrific told him. "Think: dirt swept under the rug. Military dirt. By Cadmus."

Slowly Question turned to look at Mr. Terrific. "On second thought, I suppose I can allow the burgers and hot dogs to wait a little longer…there ARE some evils in the world that must come to light faster than others."

"Good man," and Mr. Terrific nodded approval. "Back when Cadmus was still around, they had STAR Labs in Japan develop a chemical compound called Lubrilon…but soon after that, presumably when Cadmus was shut down, the Japanese government ordered all records of the Lubrilon sealed indefinitely. Since then, though, somehow Lubrilon's been smuggled out of the country and into the U.S., and is currently on the black market—and available to super-villains as well."

Question fingered his chin as he listened to this. "And you want me to find out who is responsible for the smuggling and illegal trade of this stuff without ruffling any international feathers."

"Can you do it?" Mr. Terrific asked.

"It is not a matter of whether I _can_ do it," Question corrected him. "People _can_ do anything they want. They _can_ choose to vote or not; they _can_ choose to oppose questionable government logic or turn a blind eye to it; they _can_ choose to bury secrets six feet under or resurrect them."

Mr. Terrific shook his head. _"Will_ you investigate this, then?"

"Mr. Terrific…" Question nodded. "THAT is the right question."

And with that, the faceless man walked away. Shaking his head again as he watched him go, Mr. Terrific currently turned and opened the file-jacket, and began to read.

----------

_**Linda Park's House, Central City, 10:20 a.m.**_

"So, this is where you live," Flash commented as he set Linda down. "This is a pretty nice neighborhood. Guess I should pass this way more often."

"I'm glad you like it," Linda replied as she pushed her hand into her pocket for her keys. Finding them, she opened the door and stepped in, Flash following a moment later. "Well, I better hurry and go get changed—I can't keep you from your job too long, can I?"

"Nah, no worries," Flash assured her.

"Can I get you anything while you're waiting?" Linda asked, kicking off her shoes as she spoke.

"Thanks, but I'm good," Flash replied.

"All right, then," and Linda smiled. "I won't be long. Make yourself at home."

She promptly hurried inside, toward what Flash assumed was her bedroom. Shrugging, he glanced around, noting that the living room and kitchen areas were both quite neat. "Really nice place she's got here," he remarked to himself. "Wonder if she'll invite me here as Wally…naaaaaah, probably not."

A few minutes elapsed…then Linda re-emerged, dressed in a similar outfit as before, only now she seemed much dryer. "Good thing I keep everything organized," she declared cheerfully. "That wasn't too long, was it?"

"Not really," Flash answered. "So, ready to go out into the rain again?"

"I guess," Linda laughed. "Only this time, I know I won't get as soaked."

Stopping at the door, she elected to wear a pair of black ankle-boots this time. "Okay, ready," she announced once she'd slipped them on.

The two went outside to the porch, and Linda securely locked the front door. As soon as she'd pocketed the keys, she smiled at Flash. "I hope the Flash Express isn't broken down…"

"No way!" Flash chuckled, picking her up again. "Next stop—Betsy's Coffee Shop!" And then, in a flash of red, he was gone.

----------

A few minutes later the two emerged outside a rather small coffee shop, located several avenues away from where the fight with Razer had taken place, with the sign _BETSY'S COFFEE SHOP_ prominently displayed over the doorway. "Well, here you go," Flash announced, setting Linda down. "The rain wasn't a problem on the way over, was it?"

"No…no, it wasn't." Linda's cheeks turned slightly pink. "Thanks for the trouble, Flash." And, on impulse, she reached up and lightly pecked him on the cheek.

Flash's eyes widened as he felt the light kiss. With wonder, he put a hand to his cheek…and then a rather goofy grin broke out all over his face. "Now THIS is why I love being a superhero." Now it was his turn to blush. "Well…ciao!"

And with that, he raced off into the rain once again. Smiling widely as she watched him go, Linda turned to enter the coffee shop—but suddenly she paused. "Hey, wait a minute…had I told him the name of the coffee shop…?"

----------

_**Central City Police Department, 10:23 a.m.**_

Lightning flashed and thunder rolled overhead even as Hunter brought the car into the police department's garage and out of the rain…and on his face was a vicious scowl. "He interfered again," he muttered darkly as he shut off the engine and stepped out, leaning on his cane as he did. "Always the Flash…it's always the Flash…meddling in police business…him and his Justice League pals!"

He hobbled toward a flight of stairs that would lead him inside. "Stupid cops…stupid civilians…they all put their trust in a masked man!" he glowered as he climbed each step with effort. "A man who works outside the law…a man who runs around wearing spandex instead of a badge…why should he be trusted? Why should the lives of hundreds be placed in his care? Does he have government clearance? Does he have a badge? No, all he's got is a stupid costume, a stupid grin and a stupid sense of humor!"

At length he reached the top of the stairs and pushed the door in, though not without difficulty given his limp. But even this he didn't seem to notice as he continued muttering in a menacing undertone. "Well, I'm not going to give up," he vowed. "One of these days, Flash, one of these days, you'll make a mistake somewhere…and your little façade will break into pieces…and when that happens, I'll gladly be the one to slap the cuffs on you and lock you in a jail cell to rot for the rest of your life! Costumed freaks can't be trusted—and this whole city is moronic to trust you!"

All at once a huge white blast of lightning glimmered in the sky outside, illuminated on the garage floor, followed simultaneously by an earth-shattering explosion of thunder—and in the process, the lights inside the door suddenly blacked out. "Oh, just wonderful," Hunter grumbled as he witnessed the blackout. "And the station's backup generator just HAD to be out for repairs this week…and I just HAD to not have my flashlight on me…wouldn't surprise me if the Flash was responsible for that lightning and thunder, too…"

Closing the door behind him, Hunter began to feel around as he advanced forward, as there was nothing but pitch darkness in front of his eyes. "Hello?" he called out. "Anyone here?"

No answer. "Oh, yeah…today's Sunday…and a lot of people aren't on shift today…and those that ARE, are at the hospital after that fight downtown," Hunter mumbled to himself. "Just my luck…"

Blindly groping around in the dark, Hunter pressed on. Feeling along the wall, he edged his way forward for a few more minutes…then presently felt a doorknob. "Hmm, guess I'm here now," he whispered as he turned the knob and pushed the door in.

Stepping into the room, he glanced around. It wasn't as pitch-black in here as it was out in the corridor, but the light quality was almost as nonexistent, so he still couldn't tell for sure if this was his office or somewhere else, though the noise of the rain outside, coupled with intermittent rumbles of thunder, was clearly audible. Walking a little further into the room, carefully glancing and feeling around for anything that might give him a clue as to his current environment, Hunter tapped the ground repeatedly with the tip of his cane. "Hmmm…"

The floor space seemed wider than should be possible for his office, he noted. His office was roughly seven and a half feet by ten feet; wherever he was seemed to have the floor space of a living room. Then suddenly, he banged his right leg against what seemed to be a desk. "Okay…" he murmured, patting the desk in question for later reference.

A sudden flash of light off to his left caught his attention, and in doing so illuminated the room for a few seconds—and in that amount of time Hunter was better able to ascertain his surroundings. At his right was the desk he'd banged his leg on; directly in front of him at present was a whole cabinet shelf filled to the brim with beakers, test tubes and other glass containers filled with indescribable liquids of varying colors. On the top section of the wall beyond that were several small windows lined off alongside each other, all closed possibly to keep out the rain.

"Hmph…the police lab," Hunter announced aloud. "Okay, I know the lab supervisor is supposed to be here…Hello? Anyone here?"

No answer. Hunter shrugged. "Probably went to the bathroom and hasn't come back yet…oh, well." He shuffled his shoulders and turned in the direction he knew the door was at. "Okay, at least now I've got a better idea of where my office is from here…"

Suddenly, right behind him, a deafening clap of thunder exploded outside—then in the same moment, glass shattered! Turning in surprise, Hunter saw a huge bolt of electricity bursting through one of the windows…and it hit the chemical shelf he was currently still standing near with the force of a mortar shell going off. Instinctively putting up a hand to shield himself, Hunter could do nothing to escape as the lightning seared straight through the shelf and struck him…and as all the beakers and other containers overturned or exploded with the impact, spilling their contents all over him…

_**CHAPTER 18 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 19 COMING UP!**_


	19. Chapter 19

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 19

_**Central City Police Department, 10:35 a.m.**_

"Whew!"

A side door to the lab opened, and the lab supervisor walked in. "Note to self—never get breakfast from the cafeteria on Sundays again," he grunted. "Not worth it…just not worth…"

_Crack._

He paused as he felt broken glass under his shoe. "Hmm?"

Just as suddenly, a cold blast of air hit him head-on. Looking up involuntarily at this, he was greeted by an astonishing scene: the glass from one of the windows was blasted inwards, and there was a small hint of a burning stench in the room. Mixed in with that aforementioned burning stench was the scent of numerous chemicals mixed together. "Goodness," the supervisor whispered as he took in all of this. "What on earth happened here…?"

Then suddenly his eyes saw something. "What…?" He reached to his side for a flashlight and hurriedly switched it on, pointing its glaring beam at what he'd just seen…

…and just as suddenly, he dropped the flashlight out of shock. "Dear God…Zolomon!"

----------

_**Central City, 10:40 a.m.**_

"Okay, that takes care of that!" Booster Gold announced cheerfully as he flipped an overturned police car back onto its wheels.

A gust of wind right next to him caught his attention—and, turning, he saw the Flash standing there. "Hey there, Flash," he greeted the Scarlet Speedster. "Your 'mission of mercy' go okay?"

"Yeah, it was all right," Flash shrugged. "Just to escort the girl home…no biggie."

"You sure that's all you did?" Booster grinned.

"Hey, now! That's none of your…!" Flash started, his cheeks turning as red as his mask.

Suddenly his comm.-link beeped, and he swiftly answered it. "Uh, yeah, go ahead," he spoke up.

"Mr. Terrific here," the voice on the other end announced. "I need you back up here on the Watchtower ASAP, Flash. Question got me some information that you're gonna need to see."

"Oh…does it have to do with the Lubrilon I'd told you about?" Flash wondered. "Boy, that was fast…"

"Actually, Question's still digging up info on that," Mr. Terrific clarified. "This is about something else…something I'd asked him to research earlier. He just gave that info to me not too long ago, and I figured you'd want to know about it."

Flash cocked an eyebrow. "You wanna tell me what this is about, Terrific?"

"I would, but I've a feeling you won't want to hear it over a comm.-link," Mr. Terrific answered. "It'd be better if you came up here and saw it for yourself. This isn't a request, by the way."

The speedster sighed and shook his head. "All right, fine. Bring me up."

"Hey, uh, make that two," Booster spoke up, his hand on his own comm.-link. "I just finished helping with the heavy-duty cleanup down here…Central City's finest can take care of the rest."

"Fine, then," Mr. Terrific acknowledged…and then both Flash and Booster vanished in two columns of shimmering light.

----------

_**Justice League Watchtower, 10:42 a.m.**_

Two of the teleporter's pods shone brightly, and then moments later Flash and Booster materialized in physical form. "Well, here we are again," Booster sighed. "And I, for one, am going to hit the cafeteria. Fighting super-villains tends to take a lot out of you."

"Uh-huh," Flash nodded. "Tell the folks at the cafeteria to save me some subs for later, would you?"

"How about I tell them to save all the subs? With your greedy belly, they'll have to," Booster chuckled as he walked off.

"Sounds even better!" Flash grinned.

"Flash! Up here, now!"

Flash looked up at the sound of the voice—then a few seconds later, he zipped up to where Mr. Terrific stood, waiting for him. "Okay, here I am. What is it that Question gave to you that you needed to show me so badly?"

Mr. Terrific now reached into his jacket, pulling out the file-jacket that Question had handed to him earlier. "A little info on your friend, Hunter Zolomon."

Flash's eyes went wide. Then he scowled. "Oh, great, let me guess—G.L. put you up to this, didn't he?"

"Think about it, Flash," Mr. Terrific replied. "Zolomon hates costumed vigilantes, and that includes _you._ And yet you hang around with him in your civilian identity. The Lantern's got a right to be on his guard—as you should be. Besides, man…" His eyes narrowed. "G.L.'s your friend. And friends don't let each other take unnecessary risks just so. He's just looking out for your best interest. Can you possibly fault him for that?"

"I…no. I guess not." Now Flash sighed resignedly. "What's in the folder?"

"Have a look for yourself." Mr. Terrific held the file-jacket out to him. "Gotta warn you, though, you might not feel the same way about Zolomon by the time you're done reading."

"I'll be done in no time." Flash took the file-jacket from Mr. Terrific, then opened it up and flipped through its pages—in a matter of seconds. "I'm fast enough to go through a whole book in one minute, tops."

"But can you retain what you read in such short time?" Mr. Terrific eyed him.

Flash stopped short at that. "Hmmm…good point."

He went back to the first page of the folder and read more slowly, flipping through the pages little by little. "Okay…this looks real official…"

"It should," Mr. Terrific affirmed. "Zolomon used to be with the FBI."

"No kidding?" Flash asked in surprise. "Who'd have thought?"

"Skip over to page 3," Mr. Terrific instructed him. "You'll get a little more background on him there than you probably have already."

Flash flipped to the designated page and read. "Uh…okay…" He frowned as he read further. "So he had it rough growing up…"

"He did," Mr. Terrific nodded. "His father was a serial killer, gunned down by the cops the very day Zolomon was supposed to head out for college."

"Doesn't explain why he hates people like us, though," Flash reasoned.

"No, it doesn't—not very much," Mr. Terrific admitted. "But flip over to page 8—you'll get the explanation for that there."

Nodding, Flash flipped to the designated page and read some more. "Okay…so he was a profiler for the FBI…"

"And he helped them collar a lot of criminals, including a few that were on their Top 10 Most Wanted list," said Mr. Terrific. "Unfortunately, one such outlaw cost him his whole FBI career…basically, the guy didn't fit the profile. There's a sheet on that criminal's usual M.O. on the next page."

"You know this whole thing by heart or something?" Flash asked as he flipped to the next page.

"I had time on my hands when Question got this to me," Mr. Terrific shrugged.

Shaking his head at the remark, Flash read on. "Wow…okay…any relation to the Joker?" Then he held up the file-jacket for Mr. Terrific to see—and on the page he'd been reading was a mug-shot of a man dressed in a very colorful clown getup.

Mr. Terrific looked grave. "This guy was a serial killer, code-named 'The Clown.' They'd been tracking him for months, and based on his M.O., Zolomon decided that the guy wasn't capable of facing up to his adulthood. He'd only use childish methods to commit his crimes. Childish…but effective. And it was on the strength of that belief that the FBI was able to charge in head-first on the Clown's hideout. Except…"

"Except what?" Flash wondered.

Mr. Terrific shook his head. "Turns out, the Clown was a whole lot more mature than Zolomon's profile had figured. Zolomon's partner was the first to go through the door on that raid…but the perp was waiting right behind it—with a loaded gun. Definitely not a childish method of committing any crime."

"O…kay…" Flash cocked an eyebrow at this information.

"Of course, Zolomon's partner didn't survive," Mr. Terrific went on. "They managed to get the Clown before he could cause any more harm, but…what harm he'd already done was pretty much irreparable, as far as Zolomon was concerned. The Clown had blown out his knee with a bullet…the big-wigs at the FBI kicked him out…heck, even his wife left him—seems his partner was her father."

Flash made a hissing noise with his teeth and grimaced. "Ouch…that had to have sucked." He leafed through the file-jacket some more. "All right…so basically he blames costumed folks for his run of bad luck, huh?"

"Exactly," Mr. Terrific nodded. "And he's integrated it into his current professional life as well. He's intolerant of all costumed people, whether they're heroes or villains, meta-humans or not. And right now, as you know already, he's particularly intolerant of meta-humans who're adored by the public. Sound like anybody you know?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it—watch my back around him because he hates me just for being a guy who wears a mask and is loved by the fans regardless." Flash sighed in exasperation. "Look, Terrific, as much as I appreciate this heads-up, you guys really didn't have to go this far to protect me. I'm quite capable of looking after myself, you know."

"Yes, I know. As the fastest man alive, you're more than able to do that," said Mr. Terrific. "But even the fastest man alive isn't fast enough to watch his back from _all_ angles 24-7. That's where team-mates come in. Don't forget that."

"Well…I guess so." Flash shrugged. "Hey, you mind if I keep this?"

"Not at all. It's for your perusal, anyway," Mr. Terrific answered.

"Okay, good." Flash closed the file-jacket. "I'll have more time to read it in full later…uh-oh!" His eyes suddenly widened in seeming realization.

"What? What's up?" Mr. Terrific cocked an eyebrow.

"I need to head back pronto! Got an appointment to keep back in Central City!" Flash zipped back down to the teleporter pods. "Beam me down, quick!"

"Right, right." Mr. Terrific headed over to the teleporter's controls…then, moments later, Flash vanished in a shimmer of light, the file-jacket safely tucked under his arm.

----------

_**Central City**__** Hospital, 10:50 a.m.**_

"Oh, man…what a mess…" Morillo groaned.

He and Chyre were sitting in the hospital's hallway, watching as one cop after another walked past them with patched-up injuries. "Who'd have thought…even the Protector suits weren't enough to handle a costumed nut-job," Chyre growled. "And on top of that, just about everybody that was on call today's been hurt real bad after that fight downtown."

"Lucky thing the Flash and that other Justice League guy were able to stop the freak-show before anybody else got hurt," Morillo answered, a little more cheerfully. "Now our guys can concentrate on resting up till they've recovered."

"Of course, you know that means we're gonna have to call in everybody who had a day-off today to maintain the ranks," Chyre commented. "And I know quite a couple of guys who aren't gonna be happy that their Sunday plans are gonna be shot thanks to this."

"Like anybody would've had much of a plan for today, anyway—it's still raining outside," and Morillo shook his head disgustedly.

"SOMEBODY HELP!"

Chyre and Morillo looked up at the sound of the shout, even as, at that moment, thunder boomed outside and a flash of lightning lit up in the distance. Right there, at the entrance, was a man in a white lab coat, struggling with another man's arm slung over his shoulder even as the other man leaned on him like dead weight. "Help me here!" the lab coat snapped. "This man needs a doctor NOW!"

"Oh, my god…isn't that…" Morillo started.

Chyre was on his feet in an instant, rushing toward the two men. "You're the lab supervisor from the precinct!" he addressed the lab coat. "What's going on? What happened to Zolomon?"

The supervisor glanced at the barely-conscious Zolomon. "There was an accident at the lab," he answered. "Had a hard time getting him here fast enough…traffic's been backed up really badly…"

Hardly were those words out of his mouth when, out of nowhere, a team of doctors rushed up to them with a gurney. "Get him onto this, now!" one doctor ordered.

Gingerly, the supervisor leaned Hunter onto the gurney. "Easy does it, Zolomon…you're in good hands now," he said reassuringly.

"…uh…ooohh…" Hunter moaned, even as the doctors eased him onto the gurney properly. "…light…lightning…stings…"

"Don't try to talk, man—save your strength," Chyre urged him. "Let the docs fix you up. You'll be all right."

Hunter just continued groaning even as he was wheeled away. Morillo approached the supervisor. "Hey, what happened? How'd Hunter get into this state?" he demanded.

"Well, based on what Zolomon just said, lightning struck the lab…and he got caught in it," the supervisor answered. "From what I could tell, something definitely did damage to the lab itself…hit a bunch of chemicals on one of the shelves…a whole lot of them spilled out on him. But still…the chances of lightning actually striking in such a fashion are so remote…"

"Forget about the mysteries of Mother Nature acting up—how many people do you know who survive getting struck by lightning? There aren't that many of them around!" Chyre snapped.

The supervisor nodded. "I know what you mean, Officer Chyre…I'm surprised, myself, that Hunter's still alive considering the condition I found him in."

"You make it sound like he's going to die," Morillo said with sharp disapproval. "He can't die! He's our partner! We need him!"

"Well, let's leave him in the hands of the docs…and pray…" and Chyre cast a glance up the hall where Hunter had just been wheeled off.

----------

_**Betsy's Coffee Shop, Central City, 11:00 a.m.**_

Linda Park sat at the window of the coffee shop, sipping at the dark brew in the mug she held, and glanced outside at the pouring rain. Then she glanced at her watch. "11:00…well, if that guy's late I guess I can excuse him, considering this weather," she mused as she took another sip of her coffee.

"'Scuse me…this seat taken?"

Glancing up at the sound of the voice, Linda found herself looking at a shock of red hair hanging over a sheepishly grinning face. "No, the seat's free," she said, smiling. "Please, help yourself."

"Thanks, don't mind if I do." And with that Wally West sat across from her. "Sorry I'm late, but with this weather…"

"No, actually, you're right on time," Linda answered. "At least, according to the time we'd agreed on. I got here about half an hour ago, thanks to the Flash."

Wally chuckled. "Can't argue with that…with the Fastest Man Alive as a chauffeur, what else can one expect?"

"Yeah…" Linda sighed and smiled. "You know, I've been rather grateful to him for a lot lately…he saved my life twice yesterday, and once again this morning. Guess maybe it's fate or something…"

"Wait, now—what about when I jumped in the way to save you from the Top?" Wally inquired with a smirk.

"Well, yeah, I haven't forgotten about that…but you're not a superhero like the Flash is," Linda told him. "Plus, Top flung you away like old trash, and yet Flash stood a much better chance against him."

At that Wally seemed to sink down in his seat. "Way to saw down a guy's self-esteem…"

Now Linda smiled. "To your credit, though, Wally…not many normal guys would've stood up to a super-criminal the way you did. Superpowers or no superpowers, it really was the bravest thing I'd ever seen."

"Aw, shucks…you flatter me," and now Wally smiled more easily. "I was just doing what any guy with a conscience would've done in that situation."

"But you were the only one there who did, while everybody else was either incapacitated or running away screaming," Linda pointed out. "It really took a lot of guts to do what you did. Thank you."

"Hey, no prob," Wally assured her.

Linda took another sip of her coffee. "You know…something's been puzzling me since I got here," she remarked. "When I told Flash I needed to meet you here, he seemed to know exactly which coffee shop to take me to—and I'm almost positive I hadn't told him the name of this place. What do you make of that?" and she looked at Wally inquiringly.

"That? Oh, uh…hmmm…" Wally rubbed the back of his head, leaning back into the chair as he did so. "Guess maybe he likes getting espressos here regularly?"

Linda giggled. "Wouldn't surprise me, I suppose—the coffee here IS good. I'm glad you suggested it for our meeting place."

"Yeah, me too," Wally agreed.

Linda took up her coffee mug and sipped again, then set the mug back down. "So…about that info on the Thinker case…ready to share?"

Wally cocked an eyebrow. "Still on the reporter beat, huh?"

"A journalist never sleeps," answered Linda.

"Well, okay…but off the record, remember?" Wally reminded her.

"Don't worry, I haven't forgotten," Linda assured him.

"All right." Wally leaned back some more, relaxing. "It basically has to do with what the Thinker was using to reinforce his Think Tank when he brought it out in the city yesterday."

"Mmm-hmm," Linda nodded, leaning forward attentively.

"He was using a substance called Lubrilon," Wally explained. "It's a chemical polymer that hardens like plastic once it's applied, and slippery to the grip. It was being made by STAR Labs' Japan branch for military purposes, but somehow the stuff's been smuggled over here to America…and Thinker managed to get his hands on a pretty big supply of it, enough to reinforce his Think Tank."

"I see." Linda looked thoughtful now. "But STAR Labs is a government-sponsored facility…how would a guy like the Thinker manage to get his hands on something like that, especially if it was meant for the military?"

"That's what we're trying to find out," said Wally. "Even the fact that it was smuggled here in the first place is a mystery to us, because Japan pretty much blacklisted all knowledge of Lubrilon's existence. If anybody tried to take the stuff out of that country, they'd never get very far."

"Except, somehow they did," Linda said matter-of-factly. "Say, Wally…d'you suppose that maybe, just maybe, there's a higher power at work in this?"

"Huh? Higher power?" Wally asked.

Suddenly, a loud beeping noise interrupted the two. "Sorry…that's my pager," Wally apologized as he pulled the device out of his pocket. "It's my boss…probably wants me at the lab for some emergency or other. A guy can never get a break."

"Well, at least you're on regular shifts more or less…my job requires me to be on call at all hours," Linda answered.

"I don't envy you," Wally chuckled. "Gimme a sec while I go use this place's phone."

"You don't have a cell-phone?" Linda asked, surprised.

"Too easy to lose those things!" Wally replied as he started to get up.

"Hold on…" Linda reached into her pocket and pulled out her own phone. "Why don't you borrow mine? My minutes are pretty good on this."

"Wow, thanks," said Wally, accepting the phone from her. He then quickly dialled a number and waited while it rang. "Let's just hope it's not anything too important he wants to tell me…"

"Hello?" the supervisor's voice came on the line, sounding a little frantic.

"Wally here; just got your page," said Wally. "What's up?"

"Wally, listen to me," said the supervisor, speaking very seriously. "You need to get over to the hospital right away. There was an accident at the precinct…lightning struck the lab, and Officer Zolomon…"

At that Wally froze. "Hunter? What happened to Hunter?"

"He was…struck by lightning inside the lab, Wally," the supervisor answered. "I'll explain when you get here…just hurry. I got him admitted a little while ago, but right now we're not sure what his status is."

"Say no more—I'm there!" Wally replied.

Hanging up the phone, he looked apologetically at Linda. "Sorry, Linda, but I gotta go. One of my friends at the department…he was in an accident, and…"

Linda shook her head. "No, don't worry about it," she answered. "You go ahead. And thanks for making the time to come see me here."

"And thank you for accepting the invitation." Wally smiled a little. "Well, see you later!"

So saying, he ran for the door and was gone. Watching his departure a moment, Linda smiled. "Yes, Mr. Wally West…thank you for making the time to talk to me, indeed," she said softly. "Now to put this info you've given me to good use. Like I said, a journalist never sleeps…"

_**CHAPTER 19 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 20 COMING UP!**_


	20. Chapter 20

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 20

_**Central City Hospital, 11:15 a.m.**_

The streets of Central City were still slippery from the rain; vehicles were still backed up, though by this time not as much as they had been right after the fight with Razer; pedestrians were doing their best to stay dry in their raincoats or under their umbrellas even as they navigated past and around each other. As for the rain itself, it was now coming down much more lightly than an hour ago, though the occasional flash of lightning and boom of thunder still erupted across the sky.

And the Flash was now dashing across town, toward the Central City Hospital, taking great pains not to splash water on anyone he passed or to slide on the road himself. "Come on, come on," he told himself fretfully as he ran.

By and by the front steps of the hospital came into view. Running toward them, Flash reached into a pocket and pulled out his ring—and, in the blink of an eye, swiftly changed out of costume and into his regular street clothes. Opening the ring's hidden compartment where he normally kept the costume, he watched as the suit inexplicably shrunk small enough to fit back inside the ring; satisfied once it had gone completely in, he re-pocketed the ring. "Okay…time to put on a convincing show," he muttered.

Slowing himself to normal speed, Wally now ran up the stairs, allowing the rain to wet him somewhat for a more convincing appearance. "I just hope I don't get the flu from this," he grunted to himself as he reached the front doors and pushed them open.

Inside, he saw his supervisor, Chyre and Morillo sitting in the nearby waiting area, and he hurried over to them. "Hey, guys," he greeted them. "Got here as fast as I could. What's happened?"

"Oh! Wally! I didn't think you'd have gotten here so quick!" the supervisor exclaimed, surprised.

"I was pretty close by when you paged me," Wally answered. "How's Hunter?"

"Kid, it hasn't been that long since they took him in," Chyre replied. "I guess we'll get an update from the docs soon, though."

Just at that moment a nurse happened by, holding a clipboard. "Excuse me, gentlemen…"

Morillo stood up. "How is he? How's Hunter?" he asked, anxiety all over his face.

"You can relax, sir," said the nurse. "Mr. Zolomon was very lucky, it seems. He did have a few bruises and burns, but those aren't as severe as we would've expected from a victim of a lightning strike."

The supervisor blinked. "That…was not what I expected to hear," he admitted.

"However…" The nurse frowned. "He's developed a fever, from the looks of things, and the doctors are doing their best to stabilize him before his condition worsens. Also…" Here she turned to the supervisor. "You said that some chemicals had been spilled on him, yes?"

"Yes, nurse," the supervisor nodded.

"Well, could you say what those chemicals were?" the nurse pressed. "The doctors will need to know so they can treat him properly, in the event that those chemicals might've done harm to Mr. Zolomon."

Now it was the supervisor's turn to frown. "Well, to be honest, I couldn't really tell you off the bat which ones they were," he admitted. "And with the lightning damage in the lab, it'll be tough to identify all of them. But as soon as we get back, I'll try to catalogue them and send you the list. Could you give me your supervisor's contact info?"

"Certainly," the nurse nodded.

"Um, nurse, how soon can we see Hunter?" Chyre wanted to know.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not sure if or when you'll be able to go in," the nurse said apologetically. "As I told you, the doctors are still working on him, and he will need to rest. You're free to stay here and wait in case he regains consciousness, though."

"Sure thing," Chyre nodded assent.

"Oh, by the way, we'll need to contact his family," said the nurse. "Do any of you know how to get in touch with them?"

Morillo shook his head. "Sorry, but he never did tell us if he had any next of kin," he answered.

"He's married," Wally blurted out.

At that they all turned to look at him. "He's _married?"_ Morillo exclaimed.

"Well, uh, he _was_ married," Wally amended his statement. "Best as I know, they're separated right now. I don't know if they have any kids."

"That won't be of much help to us, if they're separated," Chyre sighed.

"But at least it would be worth it to let the woman know what's happened—and I think she deserves to know," the supervisor pointed out. "Did Hunter tell you her name, Wally?"

Wally's eyes widened slightly as he realized just then what he'd done. "Uh…well…no, he didn't," he admitted. "Uh…kind of a sore topic, really."

"Well, with their being separated and all, I guess I'm not too surprised," Morillo shrugged. "I just don't see why Hunter would tell you that kind of information and not us, and we've known him longer than you."

Wally bit his lip, knowing that it wouldn't help matters to reveal how he'd really gotten that information. "Who knows, you know?" he said. "Guess he just needed to vent, and I was the perfect guy to vent to. He's been doing that a lot with me, anyways."

"In any case, nurse, let me have the contact info for your supervisor, would you?" the supervisor asked, pulling a notepad out of his coat. "And would you let us know the minute Officer Zolomon regains consciousness?"

"Certainly," the nurse promised.

But now Wally had a worried frown on his face. _Whoa…this accident of Hunter's…it sounds almost like my own…back when I first got my speed…_

----------

_Wally was in the police lab, stacking documents together. Outside, the night sky was filled with foreboding clouds that blocked out the view of the stars, and an ever-nearing rumbling could be heard in the distance. "Oh, just great," he grumbled to himself. "It's gonna rain…as if I'm not late enough already…"_

_He glanced at his watch. "Man, I hope Connie doesn't chew me out for this…but after being late four dates in a row, I guess I wouldn't be able to blame her," he sighed. "Oh, well, at least the reports are filed now, so I can get outta here."_

_He slipped the documents into his desk drawer, then turned and started toward the lab's exit—and then he stopped right near a cabinet shelf stocked full with chemicals in jars and beakers. "Oh, yeah, that's right," he groaned, his shoulders sagging. "I wasn't finished cataloguing these…oh man, now I'm really gonna be in for it…"_

_Glancing back at his workstation, he saw a huge beaker filled with a clear liquid. Walking back over, he picked up the container and turned again toward the cabinet shelf. "Well, guess I can at least put you back—I DID take you from this shelf, after all," he spoke to the beaker as he replaced it on the one empty spot on the shelf._

_And then—the world became nothing but a blurry light, but for a split second he did recall seeing a bright flash burst through the nearby window and strike the cabinet shelf, even as all the chemicals exploded from their various containers onto him and he himself got flung backwards from the impact of the explosion…_

----------

Wally shook his head. _Nah…the chances of that happening were a million to one, and I just happened to be the lucky guy that night…even if Hunter's accident was the same as mine, it's not as if the same thing's gonna happen…_

"Wally?"

Immediately Wally jerked out of his train of thought. "Wha—? Oh, sorry, you were saying something?" he asked the supervisor.

"Indeed I was, but you were completely zoned out," and the supervisor shook his head. "I'm going to need help to assess the damage that was done at the lab…and since you're here, I figure perhaps you could come back with me and give me a hand."

Wally made a face at that. "You sure this wasn't part of some secret plan of yours when you paged me?" he wondered.

"Wally…" the supervisor scowled.

"All right, all right. Bad timing. Sorry." Wally put his hands up in surrender.

"We'll stay here in case Hunter wakes up," said Morillo. "You guys go on back—we'll call you at the station if need be."

"All right," said the supervisor. "Let's get a move-on, Wally."

"Sure, sure," Wally nodded. Then he did a small wave to Chyre and Morillo as he turned to leave. "Catch you later guys."

----------

_**Blacksmith Corporation, 11:30 a.m.**_

Amunet Black stood at her office window, watching the rain pouring outside and the intermittent bursts of thunder and lightning as the sky was lit up and the heavens boomed. Then there came a knock at the door. "Enter!" she called.

The door was carefully opened, and in stepped her butler. "Madam," he reported, "all the payments from our clients have been catalogued, and now all that remains is shipping of the merchandise."

"Good, very good." Ms. Black didn't turn around. "Now…we can proceed to the next phase of my plan."

"What is your wish, madam?" the butler inquired.

Now Ms. Black smirked a little. "Mr. Clifford DeVoe was taken away by the authorities after his defeat at the Justice League's hands yesterday. Arrange to have his release secured…and then have him brought here to me."

"As you wish, madam," the butler acknowledged.

----------

_**Central City Hospital, 11:45 a.m.**_

_What…what is this…?_

He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids refused to obey his brain. _Ugh…feels like I'm frozen all over but I'm burning up inside…what's happened to me? Where am I? What's going on?_

Then, even as his eyes remained shut, something peculiar happened—something like an electrical spark shot across his darkened vision. Seeing it, he flinched and tried to move—but his limbs wouldn't budge. Gritting his teeth involuntarily even as his lips remained shut, he tried more forcefully to move…but it was as though he'd been weighted down with something he could neither feel nor comprehend.

All around him, he could hear nothing but emptiness. No scents permeated his nostrils. His whole body felt as though a trillion pins had been poked into every available pore in his skin. His tongue felt like sandpaper. And…right there behind his eyelids, the sparks continued to dance.

_Am I dead?_

His brow knitting without him realizing it, his brain began to reason. _Okay, let's see what I can remember…if I can remember anything. My name…yes, my name is Hunter…Hunter Zolomon. I'm a profiler…I work for the Central City Police Department. And…what else…?_

His hands tensed as he tried to remember, and he tried again to open his eyes—no luck. _I was a good student in school…did psychology in college…was married…and…_

All at once he cringed as a sharp burning sensation tore through his chest. _UNGH!_

For the first time, his lips were parted to expose his clenched teeth. From his throat a gurgled moan could be heard as he felt something icy and sharp cutting into the flesh of his chest, even as the burning sensation intensified under the surface. And as he hissed air through his teeth and groaned…he remembered.

_Yeah…that's it…I was in the lab at the department…and then lightning just struck through the window and hit me…and all those chemicals spilled out on me…that wasn't very pleasant…_

As if in response, the electric sparks dancing in front of his closed eyes became more intense, more insistent, and the pin-like feeling all over his skin became more pronounced. _Geez, what a stupid way to die._

And then, just like that, the feeling of pins in his skin subsided and then vanished altogether. The intangible weight seemed to inexplicably roll off him. The sparks in front of his eyes disappeared. His nerves felt alive again; for the first time, he could feel his fingers and toes moving, hear the blood pounding in his head, smell the nauseating combination of antiseptic and bleach…

_Wait—what am I smelling?_

Slowly, his eyes cracked open. His vision was blurry, but slowly coming into focus. Little by little, the wider his eyes got, he could make out his surroundings: a room with ivory-white walls and a window at one side, an open door leading to a corridor, another door off to the side that led, from what he could see, to a small bathroom…and as best he could make out, he was currently on a bed, wearing what appeared to be a green gown of sorts.

_This is…the hospital? So I'm alive after all…_

He surveyed his surroundings some more. Next to the bed, on his left, was a small table, on which rested a glass of water. Directly above his head was an air-conditioning unit, blowing a steady stream of cool breeze throughout the room. And from outside, he could hear the _pitter-patter_ of the raindrops as they landed on the closed window. Eyes narrowing, he held his hand up before his face and looked at it.

_I get it now…they must've found me in the lab and rushed me here…but… _His eyes narrowed some more. _I don't get it…I was struck by lightning—shouldn't I have been fried? Or at least be suffering some kind of injury? So why…why don't I feel like I should?_

He now held up both arms and examined them thoroughly; then, pulling the front of his gown slightly away from himself, he looked down at his chest. _Only a couple scratches here and there, but…they're so faint I can barely see them…but how? How is that possible? How can it—_

KABOOM!

All at once white light danced right outside the window as a terrific explosion tore from the sky. Startled, he involuntarily leaped to one side of the bed, eyes widening in terror as the memory of what had happened back at the precinct rushed through his mind. In the process of his movement, though, his elbow accidentally hit the glass of water, causing it to tip over off the table!

"Whoa!" he cried, instinctively turning to grab the glass before it could fall completely—

And then he saw something—bizarre. The glass and the spilled water appeared…frozen in motion. Confused, he reached one hand toward the glass…and furthering his shock, his skin now appeared slightly blurry. He watched as, seemingly with a life of its own, his hand grabbed the glass, caught the suspended-in-motion water back into the glass without missing a drop, and set the glass back onto the table.

His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. _What the…! What was that? What did I just do?_

He stared at his hand, the hand that had appeared blurry a moment ago, that had caught and corrected the spilled glass and water like child's play. _What's happening to me? My lack of injuries…my hand moving like this…what on earth's going on?_

A shining light from one side caught his eye—but, turning in that direction, he was startled even more to see the same flash of lightning that had scared him a moment ago…it was still out there, not disappearing. Again panic seized him as the memory of the lab accident gripped his mind. _No…no…not again…it's gonna hit me again…I have to get out of here!_

Flinging the covers off his body, he jumped out of bed and ran for the door—and stopped short, dumbfounded. _What…my knee…it's…I can actually move without my cane? But…how? My knee got shot out years ago—how can I be moving like this with this knee now?_

Then he looked up—and blinked. For out there, in the hallway, he could see doctors, nurses and orderlies, patients in wheelchairs and people with IV stands, all seemingly stuck in motion and slightly blurry as his hand had been moments ago. "Hey! Hello? Excuse me!" he cried out, panic gripping him even further.

But not a one of them answered him or even turned to look at him. Cold sweat breaking out over his face—or so it felt to him—he turned and ran for the nearby stairs…and shock registered even more on his face as he saw everything go blurry around him, like some sort of special effect from a movie.

He ran down the stairs, all the way down to the main lobby, just barely glimpsing a clock above the front desk—with the time reading 11:48—and then he saw Chyre and Morillo sitting in the waiting area close by, also appearing blurry. _No…I can't talk to them…they probably won't be able to hear me, just like everyone else around here…_

He ran for the open doors and headed outside, only now mindful that he was clad in just a hospital gown without even shoes on his feet and that it was raining out here—only now, as he stared aghast, the raindrops themselves seemed to have slowed almost to a standstill. Far above him, the same flash of lightning he'd seen a while ago—and now he was positive that it WAS the same flash of lightning—remained in its place, almost like an artist's portrait of Mother Nature at her most vengeful…

"WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME?" he screamed out at the top of his lungs as, now even more scared than he could remember ever being, he rushed away from the hospital. Everything remained blurry to his vision; he just barely managed to dodge in between people passing by on the sidewalk and vehicles rushing along the street. "WHY'S NOTHING MOVING? WHY AM I GOING SO FAST?"

_So fast…so fast…so fast…wait…wait a second…_

And then, just like a thunderbolt, a familiar image broke across his vision, even as he narrowly dashed past a cement truck that seemed to have parked in the middle of taking a corner past a stop-light. The image of a grinning man in scarlet, with a prominent lightning insignia emblazoned across his chest…

_HIM._

He stopped abruptly, the fear and bewilderment on his face slowly giving way to an incredulous rage. _He…he's the only person who could be like this…and I'm…I'm like HIM now? _He dropped to his knees, the fear returning and mixing with the new rage he felt. _No…how can I be like him…like that masked freak? It's not true…not true…_

"_NOT TRUE!"_ he screamed, throwing his head back even as he kept kneeling where he was—and as if to punctuate his anger, a sudden roar could be heard as thunder erupted across the sky and the rain suddenly began to move again. And he remained right where he was, the droplets of water pouring down on his body and soaking him.

He shivered as a huge chill swept around him. Glancing down, he saw, much to his surprise, that the hospital gown he'd been wearing was now in tatters, with only a small bit of it covering his belly and groin area and sticking to his skin from how wet it was. Slowly he raised his head…and beheld that he was on a street that was definitely too many blocks away from the hospital for him to have gotten here so quickly on foot…and that street that he was on lay adjacent to an all-too-familiar sight, a sight he'd come to despise since he'd moved here to Central City.

A huge building, flanked with banners emblazoned with the familiar lightning insignia…and a statue of the same grinning costumed man. And here, kneeling before this place, a flood of visions tore across his mind once again. His father, dressed in a raincoat, challenging the police to a fatal battle…a psycho in clown makeup, gunning his partner down…the same masked man he'd seen in his mind a moment ago, the one who bore the lightning on his chest, accepting accolades from the citizens while the police were left to do cleanup duty…

_Fools…they're all a bunch of fools…money that they could've spent improving the city's homeless shelters, or supporting the local Meals on Wheels drive, or upgrading our medical centers, went into this…this JOKE? A big joke honoring a costumed showboat and the freaks he associates with day after day…_

Seized by a brand-new fury, he ran up the front steps toward the entrance, only barely noting that the clock on the wall as he entered the building was halfway through ticking off 11:49 on the way to 11:50. _And even the city's finest…instead of actually doing what they're paid to do, they let a super-powered menace do it for them, and like naïve idiots they sing praises to him! _He narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth. _Well, guess what, fools? That's going to change—starting NOW!_

He barreled into the displayed exhibits with intense force. This one of that crimson-costumed vigilante simultaneously punching the Top and the Weather Wizard—broken apart, the mannequins used to make these useless things nothing more than shattered plastic. That one of the Scarlet Speedster's race around the world with that alien freak, Superman—torn asunder, the artificial globe smashed to bits. That other one of the Mirror Master pointing his laser pistols in a menacing pose—nothing more than scrap, the mannequin's head knocked completely off. But still he didn't feel sated. Screaming with animalistic vengeance, he slammed his fists into the walls and columns of the place, making indentation after indentation and breaking off numerous pieces of mortar and cement, some small, some huge—and yet his own fists only barely felt sharp sparks of heat with every blow he landed.

At length he finally paused, falling to his knees once again…and all around him was so much carnage that all that was needed to make this scene resemble mass murder was blood. His body felt tingly; his nerves were on fire; his limbs were shaking uncontrollably. He was breathing hard, a rumbling in his stomach reminding his—though faintly—that he hadn't had a thing to eat from morning.

And the clock on the wall was just now starting to tick off 11:50.

_If they're going to put their trust in a masked vigilante like him…then all I need to do is break him! I've wanted to do that for so long…and now I can! And I can make everybody in this city pay for having looked up to that punk for so long instead of paying dues where dues have been long owed! Only thing is, it's such a cruel joke of fate that in order to destroy what I despise, I must become what I despise…but if that is the only burden I must bear…then so be it._

He clenched his fists tightly, pressing his nails into the palms of his hands so hard he drew blood. _But…if I'm going to bring down the one on whom this city's placed its hopes, I have to make my statement in such a way that there'll be no mistake as to where I stand. I need something…_

His eyes shifted from side to side, looking around. He'd missed precious few of the exhibits in his rampage moments ago…and one of those happened to be a Flash mannequin, miraculously still intact. Crossing over to it, he picked up the mannequin and set it upright. He stared at the lightning logo on the scarlet costume's chest. And…slowly a grin appeared on his face. _Now…now I get it. Hunter Zolomon IS dead. He did die in that accident at the police lab. I just happen to be bearing his name, likeness and memories now…but I was born in that moment, that moment when he perished. I was born of the lightning…and his body is just a container for me! But…_

A split-second later, the mannequin was stripped completely bare, and he was dashing out of there with the costume tucked under his arm—boots, cowl and all. Again everything appeared blurry to him as he headed in the direction of a certain store…a clothing shop he'd frequently passed en route to and from work. He blinked once—and then he was standing in front of the shop, regarding the CLOSED sign on the door. Smirking, he turned and burst straight through the display window, the shards of glass seemingly stuck in mid-flight as he made his entry.

_Rest easy, Hunter Zolomon…your goal of taking down the Flash and your desire to punish this city for its foolishness will not go to waste…_ He rummaged through the shop, picking up three tins of clothing dye. Eyeing the clock above the cashier's counter and noting that it now read 11:51, he laid the costume out on the floor and then ripped open the containers of dye. _You've spent long enough tolerating a system that puts its faith in a masked punk…well…it's time for that system to pay for its foolhardy ways…and it's time for that masked punk to meet his truest match!_

He swiftly dipped his hands into one dye container after another, rubbing the dye into various parts of the costume so fast that again his hands appeared blurry, as though they had a life all their own. _Now, Flash…very soon you're going to meet the one man capable and deserving of taking you down…those costumed freaks you fight so often have failed to kill you…the cops have neglected to stop you…but I will do it for them! And then I'll make you pay for all the times you stole glory and honor that should have rightfully gone to Hunter Zolomon! That man no longer lives to take his vengeance on you…so I will do it for him!_

At length he held up the re-colored costume—and a second later he donned it. Then he stood up and looked at himself in a nearby mirror. His grin became even more sinister.

_Perfect._

Staring back at him from the mirror was a radical, disturbing, distorted image of the Flash. The costume's scarlet body was now replaced with electric yellow. Where the boots and the lightning bolt highlights on the arms, belt and earpieces had previously been bright yellow, now they were all bright red. And the chest emblem…instead of being a single yellow lightning bolt over a white circle, now it was one crimson streak of lightning over a black circle.

_This fits the profile of the only one who can go toe-to-toe the guy who thinks he's the Fastest Man Alive. This fits the profile of the Scarlet Speedster's shadow. This fits the profile of the man who will run the Flash into the grave. This fits the profile of the one who will open the eyes of Central City's people to their fanaticism for this showboating freak. This fits the profile of the savior who will deliver justice for Hunter Zolomon being wronged and slighted all this time._

Then he spoke…and his voice was gravelly. "Hunter Zolomon lives no more. Now…there is only me."

His voice went deeper and darker. "Zoom."

_**CHAPTER 20 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 21 COMING UP!**_

(NOTE TO BE MADE: Today is my birthday, the 30th of December…and I thought it only right that Zolomon's full, official transformation into Zoom be made on this day. Now, Zolomon's discovery of his powers and his mental dive is, on my part, an amalgamation of the comics' version of Barry Allen's discovery of his powers and Zolomon's own descent into madness in Flash Vol. 2, #197. Given that I'm structuring this story so that it can pass as an attempt at writing an actual episode for the JLU series, it might come across as abridged…or at least, that's how it seemed to me. But I intend to develop further on this in upcoming chapters, so no need to fret about that.)


	21. Chapter 21

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 21

_**Central City Hospital, 11:52 a.m.**_

The nurse walked quickly along the corridor, her clipboard in hand. Stopping at the elevator, she pressed the UP button and waited…then, _ding!_ The elevator doors opened up, and she stepped in. "Time to go check on that policeman that was brought in," she mused as she pushed the button for the floor she wanted.

By and by the elevator reopened, and the nurse stepped out onto her designated floor. She promptly began to head for one of the hospital rooms, only a few doors away. As she did, she glanced down at her clipboard. "I hope you've woken up, officer…although considering what you had to have gone through, I guess that's not likely," she sighed.

Now she was only two feet away from the door. Out of habit, she reached out a hand to grasp the doorknob while still glancing at the clipboard—

—but then all of a sudden a terrific gust of wind blew right past her! "Eek!" she shrieked out, instinctively reaching down to hold her skirt in place lest it be blown up to reveal what she'd rather keep hidden. Her hair wasn't so lucky; formerly in a bun and held in place by a pin, now it got blown all over even as her nurse's cap flew off from the force of the wind a second ago. Momentarily disoriented, she inadvertently grabbed the doorknob and stumbled forward…

…and there, in the room, sitting up in bed, was Hunter Zolomon, in the act of sipping from his glass of water. Now he looked up at her arrival, blinking in confusion. "Nurse? Are you all right?" he asked, concern in his voice.

"Uhhh…" The nurse shook her head and managed to steady herself. "Oh…Mr. Zolomon! You're awake now? How do you feel?"

"Well, much better now, actually," Hunter answered. "In fact…I feel just about ready to leave this place! I just seem to have a whole lot of energy now!"

"Now, now, Mr. Zolomon, don't strain yourself," the nurse warned, coming over to him. "You were struck by lightning and covered in numerous unknown chemicals, after all…wait, you were brought in with burns and bruises from your accident, but you don't look like you have a scratch on you!"

"Oh? I was?" Hunter looked down at himself, then rolled up the sleeves of his hospital gown and examined his arms. "How interesting…guess one of those chemicals I got covered with was some sort of miracle healing agent?"

"Nonetheless, you need to stay right here so the doctors can give you a full examination," the nurse said firmly. "They'll be the ones to decide whether you can leave…"

"Thanks for the concern, nurse, but I feel fine—really." Hunter then shifted and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for his walking cane as he did so. "More importantly, I need to head back to the police department and get back to work on my criminal profiling. And as for you…you look a little stressed. Maybe you should consider taking some time off, hmm?"

"Wh-what?" the nurse stammered, taken aback at this sudden turn of events.

"Well, I mean, just now you looked like you were going to fall over when you came in—and you don't look very organized." Hunter shrugged. "No disrespect, but take a look at yourself in a mirror—you look frazzled."

Eyes widening, the nurse put a hand to her head, and only then noticed the state of her hair. "Oh…well, uh…I guess I _have_ been working a bit too hard today," she muttered, somewhat embarrassed. "But at least let me call the doctor so he can give you a basic exam, and then you can go…if he says you can."

"Well, whatever makes you happy," Hunter replied, reluctantly sliding back into bed. "But somehow, I have a feeling the doc will see things my way."

Shaking her head in bewilderment, the nurse turned and exited the room. Hunter watched her go…even as a sinister smirk suddenly appeared on his lips.

----------

_**Central City Channel 4 News, 12:00 p.m.**_

"WHEW!" Linda burst into her office, running a hand through her hair. "Isn't the rain ever going to let up? I thought I'd never get here!"

Marla, seated at the desk and eating a sandwich, now looked up. "Oh, hey, Linda," she greeted her partner. "Back from your love tryst with the Flash already?"

"WHAT are you TALKING about, Marla?" Linda asked indignantly. "He just carried me home to change out of my wet clothes, then he carried me to the coffee shop so I could meet up with Wally! That's all!"

"Oh, yes, your date…I'd forgotten about that," and Marla allowed herself a smirk. "How'd _that_ go, I wonder?"

"Marla…It! Was not! A date!" Linda practically spat the sentence out. "Although, it did give me a lead as to the whole Thinker debacle…"

Marla was immediately attentive. "You learned something about the Thinker case from that guy? What'd he tell you?"

"Well, basically, the Thinker was using some sort of military-grade reinforcing chemical agent on his Think Tank," Linda explained. "And that stuff was smuggled here from Japan's STAR Labs branch. What I want to know is how Thinker got his hands on the stuff, and who sold it to him. Who knows—there just might be a super-villain black market in operation, and if I can make a report on that…!"

"But how do you intend to find out about that?" Marla asked.

"Well…" Linda chuckled. "How'd you like to take a trip with me to Iron Heights Penitentiary?"

Marla's eyes widened. "Iron Heights, Linda? Are you insane?"

"What?" Linda asked.

Marla stood up and shook her head, standing with arms akimbo in front of Linda. "Girl, let me remind you, because you don't seem to remember," she said. "They built Iron Heights just on the outskirts of Keystone City, because Central City's prison wasn't equipped enough to hold the costumed nut-jobs that the Flash has always had to fight. It's just like Arkham Asylum in Gotham and Styker's in Metropolis…they house super-criminals there before _and_ after their court trials."

"I'm not seeing where this is going, Marla," and Linda crossed her arms. "So Iron Heights is like Arkham and Styker's, and everybody knows about those two. So?"

"So?" Marla repeated. "The word is, Iron Heights has a shoot-on-sight policy for all super-criminals housed there who try to escape—their guards have some very itchy trigger fingers, Linda. And don't forget about that creepy warden of theirs—remember when you interviewed him back when they were just opening Iron Heights?"

"Huh." Linda made a sour face. "I remember him, all right. A real jerk."

"And yet, remembering all that, you're willing to risk running into him again just so you can get an exclusive interview with the Thinker?" Marla eyed Linda. "This story must really be a big one for you to want to go back there, huh?"

"I'm willing to do what I have to, to get this story," Linda answered. "So, Marla, what d'you say? You up to it?"

"Well, if you really think I'm going to just let you run off and get into trouble on your own…" Marla began.

"Super!" Linda beamed. "Just let me get my stuff together, ten! Tell the guys to get the news-van ready—we've got an exclusive to snatch up!"

----------

_**Salem Tower, Massachusetts, 12:10 p.m.**_

Dr. Fate was still in his library, dozens of books piled up in front of him. Sighing very audibly, he leaned forward. "Still nothing," he muttered. "Amazo, have you still not found anything?"

"Nothing, Dr. Fate," Amazo spoke up from an obscure corner of the library. "I have searched through all 4,491 books in this library—three times each—and still have not found anything substantial."

Hearing that, Dr. Fate shook his head and sighed again. "How disappointing…to think that we've got nothing whatsoever on this Speed Force…"

"Actually, I believe we do."

Dr. Fate turned at the sound of Inza's voice. "Inza, have you found something?" he asked hopefully.

"Only a moment ago," Inza admitted, stepping forward from the doorway. In her hand she held a worn, leather-bound tome. "I'd gleaned nothing from my meditation, so I thought I'd take a break and read up on American history."

"A favorite pastime of yours?" Amazo inquired, walking up to the couple.

"I wouldn't say 'favorite,' Amazo; it's just something to do," Inza shrugged. "In any case, while I was going through my own personal library, I came across this book. I'd bought it from an old historian a few years back, but I'd forgotten I had it…until now."

"I would say it's chosen a providential time to let itself be found again," Dr. Fate chuckled. "So, Inza? What does the book say?"

Inza flipped the book open, turning the pages. "There's an account in here that dates back to the 1800's," she said. "It tells the story of a conflict between the US Army and a Native American tribe, the Blackfoot clan. According to that story, the US Cavalry was planning an ambush for the Blackfoot Indians, in the hope of wiping them out. However, an Army scout was friendly with the tribe…so, in order to prevent a massacre, the tribe's shaman imbued the scout with magical energy that allowed him to move at superhuman speed. In the end, the scout was able to disarm both sides completely, stopping the bloodbath from ever happening…and ever after, he was known as Ahwehota—meaning Windrunner, in the Blackfoot Indians' ancient tongue."

"How fascinating," said Dr. Fate, crossing his fingers under his chin.

"But the account does not end there," said Inza. She then read on: "Legend has it, one night many years later, Windrunner felt and heard something calling to him. So, he went outside…and he ran. He ran for what seemed like hours…running faster than he'd ever gone before…and as he ran, he felt himself coming closer and closer to heaven, almost eye-to-eye with God…and then he blinked and disappeared."

Amazo looked from Inza to Dr. Fate. "Could this be a reference to the Speed Force?" he wondered.

"Even if it isn't, it's a lead at least," Dr. Fate answered. "Inza, could you lend me that book a little while? I need to show this information to Superman directly."

"Of course," and Inza handed it over. "I'm just happy I could help you in this research of yours."

"Believe me, you've been a big help," Dr. Fate assured her, gently grasping her hand.

"Perhaps you should rest before you set out again, Dr. Fate," Amazo suggested. "You have been at this research non-stop for a great number of hours, after all."

"True enough," Dr. Fate acknowledged. "I'll head up to the Watchtower later on, then."

----------

_**Hub City, Illinois, 12:15 p.m.**_

"Hmmm…I see…so this is what you were up to, then, eh?"

Question was back in his apartment, in front of his laptop, beholding the information that currently lay there on the screen in front of him. "Cadmus, Cadmus, Cadmus…what _wouldn't_ you do to ensure a power base for yourselves?" he asked aloud.

He reached for his ear, and the comm.-link that lay there. "Question to Watchtower…Mr. Terrific, are you there?" he asked.

"Go ahead, Question," Mr. Terrific's voice buzzed in his ear.

"I have the information on the Lubrilon, as you requested," Question reported. "And it seems there was more than enough reason for Cadmus to keep this little project of their under wraps."

"All right then," Mr. Terrific replied. "I'll beam you up and you can show me what you've found."

"Just a moment—I'm copying this information to a disc as I speak," Question informed him. "It should be done right about…"

Before he could finish the sentence, the disc drive on the laptop popped open, revealing a silver-plated disc that he'd been copying the information to. "Done!" he said triumphantly, snatching up the disc. "Now let me cover my tracks a little…"

He went back to typing some more—then a big screen popped up asking, _Are you sure you want to delete?_ Below that were two giant buttons with the options YES and NO. Question quickly moved the mouse cursor over the YES option and clicked; a moment later he sat back and watched as the information was systematically erased from his hard drive. "One can never be too careful where they leave traces of their digging around, you know," he commented to Mr. Terrific.

"Whatever suits your fancy," said Mr. Terrific. "You ready to be beamed up now?"

"Quite so," Question answered—and then he got caught up in a shimmering beam of light.

----------

_**Central City Hospital, Central City, 12:30 p.m.**_

"Coffee, Chyre?"

"Thanks, Morillo; I could use it."

Chyre accepted the steaming Styrofoam cup from Morillo, who in turn sat back down with his own cup of coffee. "What's taking them so long? You'd think they could've given us at least a little bit of news by now!" Morillo complained.

"I agree," Chyre nodded. "But what're you gonna do about it, Morillo? The best we _can_ do is wait…"

Suddenly he turned his head to one side, his expression brightening. "Well! Would you look at that!"

"Huh?" Morillo turned and looked in the same direction as Chyre. "Well, I'll be…!"

Coming toward them was an orderly pushing a wheelchair…and in that wheelchair was Hunter Zolomon, clad in a hospital gown but otherwise looking like his usual self, his cane in his lap. "Oh? Chyre, Morillo…you guys were here?" he asked.

The two cops got up and approached Hunter. "Zolomon, it's good to see you! How're you feelin'?" Morillo exclaimed, reaching forward and patting the man on his shoulder.

"You make it sound as if I've been gone for months," Hunter answered good-naturedly.

"Well, you were brought here in pretty bad shape…you might've been gone longer than just months," Chyre told him with a smile. "But look at you. You look as fit as ever!"

"Sure, sure," Hunter chuckled. "Anyways, the doctors just finished their little examination of me. They said I could probably leave the hospital if I really felt I was able—which I do—but they did say to take it easy for the rest of the day."

"Well, knowing you, you'll probably just sneak back to the department and dive right back into the case-files," Morillo laughed.

"Actually, taking a little time off doesn't sound like a bad idea at all," Hunter informed the two. "Maybe I'll take a sick-day tomorrow and just relax."

"Zolomon taking a sick-day? Help, it's the end of the world!" Morillo joked.

"It'll be good for you, though, no doubt about that," said Chyre. "So…leaving here with a souvenir, huh?" and he tugged at Hunter's gown sleeve.

"They said they were going to send my clothes over to the lab back at the precinct for analysis," Hunter explained. "They wanted to be sure that the chemicals I got bathed in during that accident weren't in any way lethal and wouldn't leave me with any nasty long-term effects."

"Makes sense," said Morillo. "Well, anyway, what say we get you down to the parking garage? We'll give you a lift home."

Hunter nodded. "I appreciate that."

----------

_**Iron Heights Penitentiary, Keystone City, 12:35 p.m.**_

On one side of Central City, there was a massive bridge that separated the city from its sister metropolitan area, Keystone City. Like Central, Keystone boasted numerous skyscrapers, some of comparable height to those within the distant city of Metropolis. Central and Keystone, in spite of being separated by the aforementioned bridge and a large bay area, were nevertheless close enough that anyone unfamiliar with the twin cities would've mistaken them for one giant conurbation. It was sometimes said, too, that just as Central City was nearly always portrayed as bright and sunny in much the same way as Metropolis, Keystone was nearly always portrayed as darker, grittier and more foreboding, though it was perhaps not portrayed as such to the same extent as Gotham City. Just as Central City had its sign boasting to visitors upon entry that it was the home of the Flash, for its own part Keystone had a few signs informing the world that it was the country's blue-collar capitol and king of heavy-industry cities.

And…

Just a few miles outside of Keystone's borders, there sat a massive compound, surrounded on all sides by tall, solid concrete and iron walls reinforced with barbed wire at the top. It bore a great iron door on its front wall, with a sign above that door spelling out the name of the place for all outsiders to see: _IRON HEIGHTS PENITENTIARY. _At the walls' top corners were lookout points, where stone-faced guards with heavy weaponry stood, keeping an eagle-eye out. On the grounds far below, more guards walked by on patrol, armed with guns and accompanied by huge Dobermans and German Shepherds.

Further inside, even more guards walked along the corridors on patrol, past numerous steel doors. The doors themselves immediately caught one's eye for a special reason—engraved on each door was a metallic plate with a name on it…specifically, the name of the prisoner who was encaged behind the door in question. Some of the metal plates were simple enough, bearing the first and last names of the prisoners within. However, going even further inside, many of the plates began to bear two names each, a given name and a second, colorful-sounding nickname.

There was one such door that bore two sets of names on the engraved plate. Loudly and proudly for any passerby to see, it declared the identity of the cell's current inhabitant: _Clifford DeVoe, aka The Thinker. _Inside this cell, the man who all of Central and Keystone Cities knew as the Thinker sat on an old, dusty-looking mattress. He was clad in his familiar costume—his purple and black outfit—but, of course, he was sans his infamous helmet that had earned him his criminal moniker, the Thinking Cap. And at the moment, he was just staring at the wall ahead of him, pursing his lips as if in deep thought.

_Clank clank!_

"Hmmm?" Thinker was broken out of his reverie at the loud banging of his door.

"Up and at 'em, DeVoe! You've got visitors!"

"Visitors, eh?" Thinker marveled, getting up. "I wonder who could be so kind as to pay a visit to such a place as this?"

He heard the sound of keys jingling on the other side of the door…and then in stepped two burly guards, flanked by two men in dark suits—one of whom was holding a large metal box. "Good afternoon, gentlemen," Thinker greeted them. "To what do I owe this unexpected honor?"

"You're suited up already…good. That makes this easier," one of the suits remarked.

"It's not like I have a choice," Thinker sighed. "Or didn't you know? In this place, they keep super-criminals in their costumes for easy identification…minus their various toys, of course."

"Well, Mr. DeVoe, seems you're in luck today," the second suit answered. "You're getting paroled early."

Thinker blinked. "Early parole, you say? But my court date hasn't even come yet…"

"That's how much power we're representing, you see," the first suit told him. "You used to be a lawyer—you're well aware of how far power can go to influence the right people."

"And the power that we represent wants you as…an avatar, so to speak," the second suit added. "We're here to bring you in for an interview to that effect."

"Hmmm…" Thinker frowned. "Well, good sirs, nothing would please me more than to just be out of this place. Except—there's no way I can do such a thing in and of myself. And I doubt that even you, or whoever you're representing, has such power as to release me just so."

"Come now, Mr. DeVoe, don't sell yourself short so early…surely a brilliant mind such as yours can comprehend exactly what we're offering…?" The first suit then stepped forward with the metal box, prying its cover off.

Thinker's eyes widened when he saw what the box contained. "This is…"

"Our employer _is_ that powerful, Mr. DeVoe—it's just that it pays not to let too many people know that fact," the second suit said with a small smile. "Our employer's power was enough to convince Iron Heights' chief of security to, ahem, look the other way while we secured this novelty item from his little storage facility. Plus, these two guards here, as well as a few more that happen to be on our employer's payroll, will be getting a few extra bonuses added to their salaries just for helping with your release."

Thinker looked from the box to the men and back again. "No joke?"

"No joke, Mr. DeVoe."

A smirk crept onto Thinker's lips. Carefully he reached into the box…and pulled out his Thinking Cap, setting it in place on his head, fondly rubbing his hands over the white helmet and its purple circular designs even as it now masked the top half of his face. "Yes…yes, I see it now," he chuckled. "The good warden knows nothing of this, does he? And that's how it should stay, yes?"

The two suits smirked, too. "You read our minds, Mr. DeVoe," said one.

Thinker then turned to the bed, where he'd been sitting only moments ago. Putting a hand to his now-helmeted head, he seemed to concentrate—and then, in an instant, from out of nowhere an image of himself sans helmet appeared seated in the very same spot where he'd been before! "Gentlemen, never underestimate the power of the mind!" he declared.

"But of course not, Mr. DeVoe," the second suit calmly assured him. "This is precisely the reason our employer wants to speak with you. So…let us not delay much longer, then."

"Indeed, let us not." And Thinker's eyes narrowed again, and he chuckled even as a semi-transparent wave seemed to emanate from the circular design on the front of his Thinking Cap and swept outward from his cranium…

_**CHAPTER 21 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 22 COMING UP!**_

(NOTE TO BE MADE: To those of you who have been sending me PM's asking when I'll update my other in-progress work, Yu-Gi-Oh! Eternal, heed my words: (:-P) When I first started this story I was writing it concurrently with Eternal, but then I got ahead of myself and updated Eternal faster than this story, effectively leaving this one in the dust. So, what I'm going to do is to update this one until it's reached at least as many chapters as Eternal, by which point I hope this one will be finished…and then I'll definitely go all-out on Eternal! And not to worry, I've been drafting up story ideas and arcs for Eternal while writing chapters for this story as well! So, have patience and fret not—Eternal is not through or over with yet!)


	22. Chapter 22

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 22

_**Central City Police Department, 12:40 p.m.**_

"Oh, geez…this'll take forever to clean up!"

So groaned Wally West even as he and his supervisor sifted through the charred wreckage that used to be one section of the police lab. Now, as he gingerly picked up bits and pieces of broken glass and dropped them into a large plastic bag, Wally glanced up at the window that had been torn out by the lightning bolt. "So…that's where the lightning struck from, huh?"

"Yes, it is," said the supervisor, who was currently nailing several boards over the window to keep out the weather. "We'll have to call a glazier tomorrow and have them replace this window…for now, this is the best we can do."

"I'll say," Wally grumbled. "Anyway, how the heck are we gonna catalogue the chemicals we lost here? It doesn't look like any of these bottles were labeled recently…"

"It shouldn't be a total loss—once the hospital sends over Officer Zolomon's clothes, we can analyze them for chemical residue," the supervisor answered. "Hopefully, that way we'll be able to determine what exactly he got covered with in that accident."

"Uh-huh…ow!" Wally flinched as a bit of glass cut his hand.

"Be careful, Wally—we don't know what exactly that stuff used to be!" the supervisor warned him. "You'd better hurry and go wash your hands—and put on some gloves before you come back in here, would you?"

"Yeah, my bad," Wally replied sheepishly. He quickly hurried over to the nearby doorway leading to the restroom…

…and no sooner was he in there than his comm.-link beeped. Sighing, he put one hand to his ear even as he stepped over to one of the faucets. "What's up? I'm kinda busy here, you know."

"Bad time, huh?" Mr. Terrific's voice came over the other end.

"Yeah." Wally turned on the tap with one hand, his injured hand, and then placed the hand under the running water. "There was an accident here at the lab…I think I might be stuck here doing clean-up for the rest of the day."

"Yeah, well, just thought I'd let you know," Mr. Terrific responded. "Question got that info on the Lubrilon that you wanted."

"Oh, he did?" Wally was immediately interested.

"Indeed I did," Question's voice came over the channel. "I dug up quite a lot of information on this substance, in fact, and I've given a copy of my info to Mr. Terrific. Unfortunately, I can't stay up here and wait for you to end your day job before you decide to arrive, so…what say I hop over to Central City and give you what I know in person?"

Wally made a face at that. "Honestly, you coming to my city is not something I'm looking forward to," he confessed.

"It would do you well to let me show myself there, however," Question informed him. "After all…some of this information I have for you concerns a certain highly-respected figure within your area. I would do what I normally do and confront that individual myself with the knowledge I've gleaned, but—one, as you said just now, it's _your_ city, and—two, with my reputation, my evidence wouldn't fly very well with the authorities anyway, if it were to be discovered that I was the one who unearthed it."

"Ugh…fine, then. You want directions or something?" Wally asked.

"No need…I already know where you live."

Wally's eyes widened at that—and then the channel went dead. "Okay, note to self: change address as quickly as possible so Question can't get a fix on any of your dirty secrets," he muttered to himself as he set about the task of washing his hands.

----------

_**Hunter Zolomon's Apartment, 12:55 p.m.**_

The keys jangled in the door as Hunter opened up his apartment. "Thanks for following me up, you guys, but I'm okay now—really," he spoke to Chyre and Morillo. "I mean, it's not as if I'm still in the wheelchair—they only roll you out of the hospital as far as your transport to leave, unless you really can't walk, right? And aren't I walking on my own now?"

"We know, man, we know," Morillo chuckled. "We just wanna be on hand in case of anything, that's all. After all…you almost died today."

"You can't argue with that, Zolomon," Chyre added. "You might feel okay now, but you don't know what kind of aftereffects you might experience later. Plus, you did get a bunch of chemicals dumped on you too…"

"Sheesh—what are you, my grandmother?" Hunter asked, pushing the door open and stepping in. "Look, guys, I appreciate the concern. I do, really. But if there's any trouble, you'll be the first ones I call. Trust me on that."

"Well…all right, if you say so," Morillo acknowledged, although with some reluctance evident in his voice.

"You guys wanna come in and help me raid my fridge? Right now I'm feeling so starved, I could eat a whole cornfield clean!" Hunter chuckled.

"Makes me wonder whether you insisted on leaving the hospital just so you wouldn't have to eat their food," Chyre grunted. "Well, thanks for the invite, but we gotta get back on the streets. After what went down out there today, they'll be pulling every available cop in Central City just to maintain some kind of order. Almost makes me wish I was the one that got hit by lightning instead of you."

"Wouldn't have done either of us any good—you'd probably be barbecued and I'd still be restricted by my bad leg anyway," and Hunter indicated his cane, on which he was leaning somewhat heavily. It's like you guys said—I'm lucky I'm alive after what I went through."

"Maybe it wasn't luck, man…maybe somebody up there really likes you," Morillo suggested.

"Okay, Mr. Preacher, come on, let's go," said Chyre, and he began to push Morillo away from the door. "Remember, Zolomon, you promised—call us if anything happens, you got it?"

"Yes, Grandma," Hunter chuckled, and with that he shut the door.

Sighing even as he continued to chuckle, Hunter leaned on the closed door and listened as Morillo and Cyre's footsteps echoed down the hallway and faded from hearing range. And then his grin turned more sinister. "Yeah…somebody up there must definitely be on my side, for once," he said coolly.

He surveyed the apartment in which he now stood. It was a rather modest-looking place—just a few necessary pieces of furniture here and there, a TV, a fridge, a few other kitchen appliances, and off to one end there was a bathroom with all the necessities—and that was about it. "Hmph…living the good, honest life of a law enforcement officer, being responsible for criminal busts, and what thanks did you ever get?" he scoffed. "No big bonus paycheck, no gift baskets, not even a 'thank you.' No…all those accolades have only ever gone to the Flash. Well…all that's gonna change, now that fate has decided to cheer for my corner for once."

Suddenly he winced and clutched his middle, even as a loud rumbling sound reverberated in his ears. "Of course, first I need to eat," he muttered.

Flinging his cane to one side, he zipped over to the refrigerator, and a few seconds later he'd piled everything from the fridge shelves onto his table. He looked at all the food he'd packed out, and gulped. "Okay, now I know I'm in problems—even the uncooked stuff is starting to look appetizing as is," he grumbled. "Well, guess a sandwich should tide me over."

Super-speeding over to the kitchen sink, Hunter fetched a knife—and then just as quickly ran back over to the table and selected a half-cut loaf of bread, some tomatoes, a hunk of cheese, and some turkey slices. Then, in the space of ten seconds, he'd made a decent-sized sandwich and put it on a plate. Another twenty seconds later, he wolfed the whole sandwich down—and promptly made another. And ate that one. And made another. And ate that third one.

"Geez…I wonder if Flash has to eat this much all the time?" Hunter asked aloud as he made his fourth, then fifth, then sixth sandwiches, and gulped them all down one after another…and only then did he notice that the bread he'd been cutting was now finished. "Crud! All right, forget about sandwiches—I'm eating whatever I've got here that I don't need to cook!"

A couple of minutes went by…during which time he consumed several more turkey slices, ate a whole tomato and a head of lettuce, downed another hunk of cheese, gulped a whole large carton of orange juice, and very nearly ingested a carton of milk. This last item he didn't, however, as he sniffed the milk just as he was opening its container. "Whew! Glad I didn't drink THAT so quickly!" he exclaimed, tossing the milk into a nearby garbage bin.

Then he rushed over to his cupboard, pulling out two tins of baked beans, one of sardine, one of corned beef, and a pack of crackers. Hurriedly opening the tins with a can-opener, he unloaded all the food into the same plate he'd been keeping his sandwiches in, burst open the pack of crackers and emptied them all onto the plate as well, and in forty seconds he'd ate the whole lot, food stains being the only evidence that anything had just been there. Finally, he swiftly stashed all the uneaten food back into the fridge, carried the used utensils and the plate to the sink, and sighed with contentment. "That put a crimp on half a month's worth of grocery budgeting…but it was worth it," he chuckled.

Then he narrowed his eyes. "And now…time to make myself known to this city! And…the first stop's gonna be…" And he turned his head toward a window above his bed, looking out at the still-pouring rain, and laughed.

----------

_**The Rogues' Hangout, 4**__**th**__** Street, 1:15 p.m.**_

"Whew! Talk about pouring rain! It's really coming down out there!"

The patrons of the infamous bar looked up as the door was flung open and the newcomer made his declaration about the weather. On seeing who it was, many of them merely shrugged and returned to their drinks and conversation; a few raised their glasses in acknowledgement of his presence. "Weren't following the newscast, were you, Trickster?" one of them snorted.

The Trickster, a man dressed in colorful clothing with a big blue cape and sporting clashing blond and red hair, chuckled nasally as he entered and crossed over to the counter. "Sure I saw that newscast," he replied, "but I thought it was just one of my ol' buddy Weather Wizard's little plots! Except, of course, nobody's seen him around here for a while…"

The man who'd addressed him, a figure dressed in a gray asbestos suit with red and orange goggles and some sort of tank strapped to his back, now got up from the table where he'd been sitting alone and joined Trickster at the bar. "Guess it's true—you're always the one Central City rogue who gets the bad news last," he said sympathetically. "Weather Wizard's dead, Jimmy-boy."

Trickster stared at him in disbelief. "Dead?" he repeated, laughing as he did so. "Okay, you're trying to trick me, aren't you, Heatwave? Nobody could bop good ol' Wizzy just like that!"

"I'm not lying," Heatwave replied, very sternly. "Weather Wizard IS dead, along with the Shade. Four months, now. That was back when Darkseid and his little army tried to storm Earth, remember?"

"Oh…oh, yeah." Now Trickster became a little more thoughtful. "So, he's the one that killed 'em, huh?"

"Not quite." Heatwave sighed. "You remember, the three of us were members of Gorilla Grodd's Legion of Doom, right? Well, there was a little fighting amongst all of us…and then those two ended up being among the unlucky bunch that got iced."

"Boy, that had to have sucked." Trickster shook his head. "And not even a funeral to honor their memory…those two were all right, you know."

"Actually, us Central City guys had a memorial service for them," Heatwave told him. "You just weren't invited."

"WHAAAAT? But I'm the life of the party, you know!" Trickster protested.

"That's exactly _why_ you weren't invited," Heatwave answered. "That, and three certain guys managed to escape from jail just so they could be there. Since I was the one who organized it, they'd let me know ahead of time that if they saw you there, they'd have your head."

"Shucks…two of my fellow super-villains bite the big one, and I can't even go to their memorial service because three other guys have it out for me." Trickster appeared dejected. "What's a guy to do?"

"Hey, now, don't be so glum," Heatwave said helpfully. "Tell you what—how about you make a toast to their memory, eh?"

At that suggestion, Trickster brightened considerably. "Well, better late than never," he answered. "Hey, fix me up three cherry colas, would you?"

"Three?" the bartender eyed him dubiously.

"Yep! I'm drinking one for Wizzy, one for Shade, and one for me!" Trickster laughed.

Heatwave shook his head. "That wasn't quite what I meant…"

Just then the door to the bar swung open with a loud bang. "TRICKSTER!" a loud voice yelled from the doorway.

Trickster looked up at the sound of the voice, and just as suddenly paled. "Uh-oh."

Standing there were three newcomers, all dressed up in elaborate costumes. One wore a blue and white parka, with blue goggles over his eyes. Another wore a blue trench-coat and cap, with boomerang designs on the coat's shoulders and on the front of the cap. The third wore an orange costume with a green head-mask. And all three bore peeved expressions on their faces. "We got word that you were coming here, Trickster," the one in the blue and white parka spoke up, his voice dripping with disgust. "We need to have a little _talk_ with you."

At once furious whispering spread out amongst the bar's patrons, as they looked from Trickster to the three arrivals and back again. Heatwave himself stood up and approached the trio. "Captain Cold, Mirror Master, Captain Boomerang," he greeted them. "Can't you guys at least deal with this someplace else? Some of us are trying to enjoy our refreshments in peace, you know."

"Back off, pyro-boy, or I'll rip you a new one, eh?" Captain Boomerang said threateningly. "This has got nothing to do with you. So steer clear!"

Seeing the fury in the three men's faces, Trickster started to edge away from the bar—and nearly jumped out of his skin as a huge razor-edged boomerang flew right in front of him and got stuck in the counter. "Oy, Trickster, stay right there!" Boomerang shouted.

Swiftly taking the initiative, Mirror Master walked over to Trickster and, clapping a hand on his shoulder, roughly pushed him back down onto his barstool. "Trickster, ol' buddy, ol' pal, how're you doin', huh?" he asked, smiling mockingly as he sat down himself.

"Uh…heh, heh…fine…I guess…?" Trickster chuckled weakly.

"Well, I wish we could say the same about ourselves," Captain Cold remarked, sitting on the opposite side of Trickster. "But I'm going to tell you why we can't. Remember back when we were going to ambush the Flash at his little Flash Museum? Turns out, a certain somebody tipped him and his Justice League friends off that we were going to be there. Now, if my math's right, four of us were initially in on the whole thing, but only three actually went there. And I know _I_ wasn't the one who didn't go, nor was it Boomer, nor Mirror Master. And that leaves…guess who?"

"Now, see, Trickster, there's a little something you apparently don't get," Boomer added, standing right over Trickster with another boomerang in hand, even as he reached over and retrieved the one he'd just thrown, yanking it out of the wood of the counter-top. "Being a snitch is bad enough…but snitching on a fellow Rogue? Now THAT'S something I can't forgive, and I doubt these two," gesturing to Cold and Mirror Master, "feel any differently. And I don't think I need to remind you what happens to turncoats…"

"Now, now, gentlemen, let's not be so quick to rush to judgment," Mirror Master said smoothly. "For all we know, maybe Trickster didn't give up that information of his own free will. Maybe, just maybe, the Flash tricked him into revealing our plan—right, Trickster? That _is_ what happened, isn't it?"

"Uh…uh, yeah! Yeah, that's it! That's what happened! The Flash tricked me!" Trickster nodded enthusiastically. "I wasn't thinking straight! I wasn't on my meds! He used that against me and made me tell everything!"

Mirror Master patted Trickster on the shoulder. "There, see? Now that was quite a clarification, wasn't it?" he addressed Cold and Boomerang.

"Hmmm…I suppose it does make sense," Cold answered, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "In that case, what do you suppose we should do about it, hmm, Trickster?"

"Oh! Oh! I know, I know!" Trickster said eagerly. "Let's go wreck the Flash Museum right now! That'll teach the Flash a lesson, plus we can lead him into a trap that way!"

"Hmmm…you, know, that does sound like a good idea—but I've got a better one," said Boomerang, grinning.

"Oh? Do share!" Mirror Master invited.

"Well…" Boomerang held up his signature weapons ominously. "What say…Captain Cold here turns Trickster into an icicle…then Mirror Master traps him in a mirror…and then I use that mirror as target practice for my bommerangs?"

"Now THAT idea I like!" Cold laughed.

"Yeah, it's not a bad idea at all!" Mirror Master smirked.

"I don't think so!" Heatwave suddenly snapped, pulling out a gun that was attached to his back-strapped tank via a tube and pointing it at the trio. "You better leave Trickster alone, or else I'll roast the three of you together!"

"I thought you were told to stay out of it!" Cold snarled, pulling out a bright blue blaster gun of his own and pointing it at Heatwave. "Unless, of course, you want to _join_ Trickster in his punishment? I personally wouldn't mind adding you—I've never liked you very much, anyway."

Mirror Master pulled out two pistols of his own, pistols outfitted with small mirrors. "Now, Heatwave, don't be stupid," he warned. "Either we leave here quietly with Trickster, or we blast our way through you and _then_ leave here quietly with Trickster. What's it going to be?"

"_**How about a third option—none of you leave here at all?"**_

At once all heads turned at the sound of the raspy voice coming from the doorway—and everyone stared. "Crikey…who the heck is this supposed to be?" Boomerang wondered aloud.

For now, standing just inside the doorway, was a stranger dressed in a vaguely familiar costume. "Is that…Flash?" Trickster asked in a tiny voice.

Cold scoffed. "Don't be an idiot—don't you see this guy's costume is the wrong color altogether?"

"Yeah, you're right…the colors are all mixed up," Heatwave noted. "It's yellow where it's supposed to be red, red where it's supposed to be yellow…"

"I don't know—this could be a trick," Mirror Master remarked, a note of suspicion in his voice. "Hey, you there! Who're you supposed to be—Flash's mixed-up stunt double or something?"

The newcomer's eyes narrowed at that. "My name…is Zoom. Remember that name well."

All the patrons looked at each other, then back at Zoom. Heatwave shook his head and approached the stranger. "Well, whoever you are, that costume's got to go," he told him. "It might not look _exactly_ like Flash's suit, but it does remind me of him…"

He was totally unprepared for the fist that rocketed toward his face at light-speed—and ended up flying backwards into Cold, Boomerang, Mirror Master and Trickster, knocking them all down! "Aagh!" he cried out, holding his jaw where Zoom had struck him.

For his part, Zoom twirled his fist a little while looking at it. "You dare to look at this costume…and see how different it is from Flash's…and still compare me to that idiot?" he demanded. "You punks don't have a clue who you're talking to…well, it's about time I let you know."

Mirror Master managed to pick himself up off the floor, then glared at all the other patrons who were staring at Zoom, stupefied. "Don't just stand there, you morons—GET HIM!" he yelled, readying his own pistols again.

What happened next was, very literally, a blur.

Zoom dashed forward in a streak of yellow, grabbing one patron by the front of his shirt and spinning him around a few times before letting him fly into several other men, knocking them down. Then he grabbed up one of the bar-stools, swinging and delivering a smashing blow to another man's head with it. Thrusting the stool straight into a third man's gut and causing him to double over, Zoom shot around the room, delivering punishing blows to some patrons' stomachs and massive uppercuts to other's chins. Then he raced back toward the bar, jumping over it and planting both feet firmly into the bartender's chest, causing the man to fly backwards and inadvertently scatter bottles and glasses in the process.

The five super-criminals, meanwhile, stared in shock as the yellow streak tore throughout the room, knocking people over. "Whoa…this guy's fast…" Boomerang whispered.

"Stop admiring him and shoot him alreadAAAAAH!" Cold cried out as a red boot connected with the side of his head at supersonic speed, sending him sailing right into one of the tables and smashing it to pieces in the process. In the same movement, Zoom grabbed up Cold's dropped gun and pointed it at an unprepared Heatwave…and fired a blast of cold nitrogen that froze Heatwave in place before he could even bring up his own weapon to attack.

Seeing Zoom pause in that one moment to fire Cold's gun at Heatwave, Boomerang readied one of his weapons. "Now or never!" he shouted as he let it fly straight for the yellow speedster's head—but Zoom swiftly dropped Cold's gun, spun around, caught the boomerang in mid-flight, and flung it back at Boomer with such force that it slammed into its owner's midsection hard enough to knock the wind out of him, lift him off his feet, and send him tumbling into the bar-stools, knocking them all over in the process.

"Hey! Zoom, was it? Over here!"

Looking up, Zoom caught sight of Mirror Master—or rather, ten Mirror Masters. Glancing down briefly, he noticed several small compact mirrors on the floor. "Holographic reflections of yourself," he noted.

"Not just holograms—hard-light constructs of myself!" the ten Mirror Masters boasted in unison, even as they all held up their pistols and pointed them at Zoom. "Just try finding the real me before we all kill you!"

At that Zoom smirked. "Which is faster—your trigger fingers, or me snapping _my_ fingers, hmmm?"

"Huh?" the ten Mirror Masters asked.

Then Zoom held up both hands, and his fingers became a swift blur as he made a finger-snapping motion—_KRA-KOOM!_ Then all ten Mirror Masters were screaming as an immense sonic boom tore through the bar, destroying nine of them altogether and sending the tenth flying straight through the window, shattering the glass and causing him to land outside on the sidewalk in the process!

Zoom chuckled as he observed the destruction his most recent antic had caused. "Looks like my little on-the-spot experiment worked," he spoke up. "Snapping my fingers at Mach 1 speed to create a boom-like effect…hmm?"

Glancing behind him, Zoom caught sight of the Trickster sitting on the ground, trying to crawl away quietly. Now Trickster looked up—and saw the yellow speedster looking down at him. "Aaah! Please! Don't hurt me! I'll do anything!" he pleaded.

Scowling, Zoom bent down and reached a hand toward the one remaining super-criminal. Flinching, Trickster closed his eyes…

…and felt three sharp raps on the top of his skull delivered at super-speed. "OW! OWWW!" he wailed, grabbing his head.

Zoom glared at him. "You're not worth my effort to do more than _that,"_ he grumbled. "I've read your profile, James Jesse. Do yourself a favor—go back to the hospital, get your meds, take them regularly, and _keep_ taking them regularly. Do NOT make me have to come back here for you. GOT IT?"

Not wanting to incur further wrath, Trickster nodded swiftly. In response, Zoom turned and blitzed out of the wrecked bar, leaving a whole horde of injured and incapacitated patrons in his wake.

_**CHAPTER 22 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 23 COMING UP!**_

(NOTE TO BE MADE: In the comics, the Hunter Zolomon version of Zoom has an ability to create sonic booms by simply snapping his fingers, although how he uses that power isn't explained since his speed is based on time manipulation. Here, since I've given him an origin for his powers that is similar to that of the Eobard Thawne version, as well as Barry Allen and Wally West, the sonic boom ability seems to make a little more sense. And besides that, I had a lot of fun compiling this particular fight scene, Zoom's first in this fic! -)


	23. Chapter 23

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 23

_**The streets of Central City, 1:25 p.m.**_

As Chyre and Morillo's squad car cruised along the street, the latter looked out the window and smiled. "All right…looks like the rain's finally starting to let up," he remarked. "And traffic's flowing a lot better now than a couple of hours ago."

"Uh-huh." Chyre, at the wheel, grunted in response. "Maybe the same power that kept Zolomon alive decided to cut us a break."

All at once a voice emerged over the car's radio frequency. "All available units within the vicinity, please head over to 4th Street immediately," the dispatcher announced. "We've received reports of an explosion heard within that area."

"Hey…aren't we close to 4th Street…?" Morillo wondered.

"So much for my wishful thinking," Chyre growled disgustedly as he reached for the radio. "Dispatch, copy that. We're checking it out right now."

He then spun the wheel hard to the left and stepped lightly on the gas, turning a corner in doing so and slightly skidding. "4th Street…isn't that where they have that bar where all the city's super-villains go to chill?" Morillo asked.

"Yeah, that's it, all right," Chyre nodded. "Heaven knows why they haven't condemned that place already…"

A moment later the car turned another corner, and then the two cops beheld the aforementioned bar up ahead, with its window completely shattered. "Whoa…guess somebody decided to condemn it for you, Chyre," Morillo chuckled.

"About time, I say," Chyre answered, pulling up to the curb right outside the bar. "Well, well, would you look at that…seems our pal Mirror Master decided to take a nap on the sidewalk. What say we go wake him up?"

"Let's watch it—this could be a trap, for all we know," Morillo cautioned.

The duo alighted from the car, drawing their guns as they did so. "Hey! Mirror Master! This isn't the Ritz, pal—get up!" Chyre ordered, pointing his gun at the villain.

Morillo, meanwhile, stepped up to the door of the bar and looked in. "Uh, Chyre, you might wanna take a look at this," he called to his partner. "The place is trashed!"

Glancing to his side and through the bar window, Chyre saw that the claim was indeed true: the glasses and bottles behind the counter were all scattered over the place, the bar-stools were all on the ground instead of standing upright, and one table appeared to be smashed through, with what seemed to be Captain Cold laying there amongst the wreckage of said table. Captain Boomerang was passed out amidst the fallen stools, Heatwave was standing in the middle of the room frozen in a block of ice, and all over the place other patrons were sprawled out on the floor or among the furniture, either laying completely still or groaning in pain.

"Better call this one in, Morillo; we're going to need a lot of backup to cart all these lowlifes back to the precinct," Chyre advised, even as he pulled out handcuffs and began to arrange the fallen Mirror Master's hands behind his back—and only then did Mirror Master himself begin to groan.

"Ooohhh…anybody get the plate number of that bus that hit me…?" Mirror Master asked groggily.

Chyre shook his head as he slapped the cuffs onto the super-criminal. "Don't worry, pal—where you're going, you won't need to worry about buses hitting you ever again," he answered sarcastically, hoisting Mirror Master to his feet.

----------

Elsewhere in Central City, at that very moment…

Zoom was now running up the street where the Thinker had struck with his Think Tank only the day before. As he approached the particular stretch of road where the super-criminal had battled the Justice League, his already sour expression darkened further. "Just a little further," he mumbled to himself. "Then, once I take care of _that little matter,_ all of Central City will be made to realize its folly."

At length he turned a corner and shot off up a side avenue in a blazing burst of yellow, cutting in front of astonished pedestrians and drivers caught completely unaware by this obstruction. One of the cars, in braking to avoid hitting Zoom, skidded right into the middle of the intersection. "Hey, Flash! Watch it, would ya?" the irate driver yelled, leaning out of his window and shaking his fist.

Instantly Zoom ground a heel into the pavement, skidding several feet to a complete stop due to the fact that the road was still wet from the rain. He spun around, glaring all the way back up the avenue—and a few seconds later was rushing back toward the traffic he'd just dashed in front of to make the corner. "What did you just say?" he demanded, stopping right at the window of the driver who'd made the outburst and reaching in to grab the steering wheel, holding it tightly with one hand.

Startled at the suddenness of Zoom's reappearance, the driver now cocked an eyebrow at him. "Oh…pretty original costume there, Flash," he said sarcastically. "But it doesn't matter what color you're wearing—you're not the king of the road! Other people have to use it too, you know!"

Very slowly…Zoom leaned over so that he and the driver were exactly at eye-level. "Did you just call me…Flash?"

"Uh, yeah—what're you, deaf or retarded all of a sudden?" the driver snarled, getting more cross. "I mean, how many other guys in Central City do you know who wear lightning bolts on their chests and run around faster than kids on sugar highs? Anyway, you mind getting off of my car now, so I can get it out of the way?"

Zoom's eyes narrowed, even as the other drivers nearby began honking their horns impatiently. "No, no, I don't mind at all. My bad, mister." And he released the steering wheel, took a step back and straightened up.

Scoffing, the driver reached for the ignition key to start the car again—but suddenly one yellow-gloved hand grabbed him by the front of his shirt and another grabbed him by the neck, forcefully yanking him out through his window! "What the…!" was all he managed to let out as Zoom rapidly slammed him headfirst into the car door.

"DON'T!" Zoom yelled, emphasizing the shout by banging the man's head into the car door again. "EVER!" _Bang._ "MISTAKE!" _Bang. _"ME!" _Bang. _"FOR!" _Bang. _"THAT!" _Bang. _"GUY!" This time, though, he grabbed the man under the arms, roughly hoisted him up so that his legs were kicking frantically at air, then spun around on the spot at hyper-speed before letting his unfortunate victim go. The driver instantly went flying, screaming all the way, until he crashed right into the windshield of another car, scaring that car's inhabitants out of their wits.

Immediately the pedestrians witnessing this bizarre scene started screaming and ran off in different directions. Zoom watched their flight without pity in his face. "You're all a bunch of morons!" he shouted. "What—you want the Flash to come and _rescue_ you? Well, come on then—get him out here! Let's see which of us is the better man—him or me!"

He swiftly crouched down onto the ground, getting into position as though he were a track runner. "You people call him 'the Fastest Man Alive'? Well, guess what? There's a new player in town, ready to contest that title! Let's see your precious 'hero' stand up to ME!"

At the last word, he jetted off, back up the avenue—and in doing so, he inadvertently created a huge sonic boom that fairly lifted the cars off the ground and sent them flying into the walls of the nearby buildings, even as those pedestrians who hadn't ran far now frantically scampered for cover. Zoom glanced back briefly and noted what he'd done with grim amusement. "Beat that, show-boater," he growled.

He ran several hundred yards further—then abruptly turned and headed a few dozen feet back, stopping in front of a pizza parlor. "Not a bad idea to stock up…especially for what I've got in mind for the Flash," he declared aloud as he stalked up to the parlor door and roughly kicked it inward.

Inside, the customers and servers started at Zoom's noisy entrance. "All right, everybody!" he shouted. "All of you stay right where you are and nobody gets hurt!" And then, ten seconds later, he'd ran around the entire restaurant, snatching up all the plates, cups and trays from the customers' tables, and piled the confiscated pizzas and sodas on the counter before digging into them rapidly. Without interrupting a chew, he continued to the astonished cashier, "You there! Tell the people in the kitchen to send all the pizzas that are ready out here to me! I don't care what type they are or what toppings they've got!"

One of the customers, who'd been staring in utter shock at the empty place on his table where his pizza had been mere seconds ago, now jumped up with indignation. "Hey, dude, who d'you think you are, huh, man?" he snapped, storming up to Zoom. "You can't just come in here and—"

Holding a pizza slice in one hand while still biting into it, Zoom made a fist with his other hand and delivered multiple jab-punches at the guy's torso, before delivering an especially hard punch to the face that sent the guy sprawling onto the floor. "I can, and I just did," he declared with his mouth full. Then he glared around at everyone else. "Anybody else got a case of smart-mouth disease?"

For answer he heard only the whimpering of the children seated here and there in the parlor, even as their parents pulled them into protective embraces. "I didn't think so either," he grunted as he went back to eating the pizzas, only pausing to swiftly down one of the stolen sodas.

"Um…sir…" The cashier now approached Zoom, quite timidly too. "The pizzas you asked for…they're coming out now…"

"So what're you chumps waiting for? Bring 'em out here now!" Zoom demanded.

In response three servers emerged from the kitchen and approached the counter, each holding three boxes of pizza. Smirking a little, Zoom grabbed the boxes and set them down on the counter next to the pizza stolen from the customers, and then he opened one box and began to gorge himself on that pizza.

"Whoa…" One server leaned to one side to whisper in another's ear. "Can you believe it? This guy's eating as much as the Flash!"

Instantly Zoom dunked one hand into one of the soda cups he'd drained, pulled out an ice cube, and flicked his wrist in a faster-than-the-eye-could-follow movement, flinging the cube and hitting the server on the side of the head. "OW!" the server cried out as the force of the ice cube spun him around and caused him to land on the counter.

Zoom promptly pulled out another ice cube and held it up threateningly. "The next person dumb enough to compare me to the Flash," he said coldly, "gets this ice cube _through_ their head."

Relative silence fell over the pizza parlor. Not a single person opened their mouth to talk; in fact, the only sounds that could be heard now were the hushed whispers of parents shushing their sniffling and crying children, and Zoom's own noises as he gulped down the pizzas and sodas. And all the while everyone kept watching him as he ate and drank, though nobody else dared to approach him or address him.

A little while later, all the plates and trays had nothing but crumbs in them, all nine of the recently-presented pizza boxes were empty, and all the soda cups held nothing but ice in them. Patting his belly as he got up, Zoom regarded his physique with a chuckle. "Stuffing myself without getting a pot-belly…I could get used to this," he remarked. "Well, people, I've got preparations to make, so…any of you Flash fanatics that wanted an autograph from him, now would be a good time to find him and get it!"

With that, he streaked out of the parlor. Everyone turned their heads simultaneously to watch his departure; then the cashier turned to the servers. "Uh…maybe we could call the police now?"

----------

Running along the streets again, Zoom glanced up and saw that he was now approaching Central City's border. "Good…now things can really get into motion," he sneered, increasing his speed and dodging in between traffic in the process.

A minute later he found himself one mile away from Central City's outskirts. Looking back, he appraised his situation. "From here, it should be a straight line to go through Central City and across the bridge into Keystone," he mused, holding an arm straight out in front of him for better evaluation. "Good."

He crouched slightly, upper body bent forward. "Now…let the punishment of these cities' people begin."

And then, like a shot from a gun, he blasted off back toward Central City, with a loud BANG sounding from his point of departure…and as he rapidly closed in on Central City's border again, he positioned both hands and prepared to snap his fingers…

----------

_**Central City Police Department, 1:35 p.m.**_

The door to the police lab swung open, and Wally stepped in while rubbing his brow with the back of his arm. "Well, that's that for that!" he announced cheerfully. "Took all the debris and chucked them into the garbage chute outside!"

"Good job, Wally," the supervisor nodded with approval. "Hope you didn't aggravate that cut you got on your hand?"

Wally regarded his hand that he'd injured a short while earlier, now wrapped up in a bandage, and shook it with a chuckle. "Nah, it's all good. It was just a little sliver of glass; no harm done."

"When a shard of glass is covered in chemicals like those were, you can't take any chances—especially since you weren't wearing gloves," the supervisor told him. "By the way, I just overheard something on the police scanner here in the lab—my guess is they'll probably want us to come down to 4th Street soon."

"4th Street? Why?" Wally asked.

"Seems there was an explosion at a bar down there," the supervisor explained.

Suddenly the police scanner crackled, from the supervisor's office. "Oh, looks like something else is up," the supervisor remarked, and he and Wally went to the office together.

"Gee, looks like this weekend's been nothing but excitement, huh?" Wally wondered.

"Seems that way," the supervisor agreed as he reached for the scanner on his desk and began to fiddle with the dial.

"…repeat, all available units, we're receiving multiple reports of explosions from throughout Central City and going over into Keystone City," the dispatcher's voice came over the frequency. "We're also receiving multiple reports of a man in a yellow Flash costume running around and disturbing the peace…"

"Huh…explosions throughout the twin cities, and now some crackpot going around wearing an imitation Flash costume," the supervisor shook his head. "Guess this weekend really IS full of excitement after all, Wally—I just wonder if the police will be able to handle all of this happening at once…"

He turned around—and only then noticed that he was alone. "Wally?"

----------

The Flash blitzed along the street, narrowing his eyes as he heard one loud sonic boom after another from only a couple of miles away. Then suddenly his 6omm..-link beeped, and he put a hand to his ear. "Flash here," he announced.

"Flash, we're picking up multiple sonic booms in your area," Mr. Terrific's voice reached him.

"I know—I'm already on it," Flash answered. "The cops here are still thinned out from the whole Razer incident this morning. I'm gonna need some backup to deal with any injuries down here."

"Got it," Mr. Terrific replied. "I'm sending Booster Gold and Question down there now, plus I'll send the call out to all other available Leaguers."

"Much obliged. Flash, out," and Flash severed the connection.

----------

_**Justice League Watchtower, 1:42 p.m.**_

Mr. Terrific touched a few buttons on his keypad. "Question, Booster Gold, report to the deck at once!" he ordered, his voice reverberating over the intercom.

Then he touched a few more buttons on the keypad again. "Watchtower to Metro Tower, come in, please," he spoke up.

One of the monitors above his head lit up, and a technician's face appeared. "Metro Tower here; go ahead, Mr. Terrific."

"We've got a situation in the Central-Keystone area," Mr. Terrific reported. "Multiple sonic booms, possible chance of civilian injuries. The authorities in Central City have had their numbers reduced due to a meta-human attack this morning. We need all available Leaguers down there, stat."

"Understood," the technician replied, and then the monitor went to static.

Just at that moment Booster Gold and Question emerged on the deck, Booster shoving the last of a chili dog into his mouth. "Trouble in Central City again?" he asked with his mouth full.

"It would seem that way," Mr. Terrific nodded. "Get down there and give Flash some backup, now."

"Not a problem," and Question tipped his hat slightly. "I was just getting ready to go down there and see Flash, anyway. Might as well kill two birds with one stone."

----------

_**Salem Tower, Massachusetts, 1:43 p.m.**_

Dr. Fate, Inza, and Amazo were carefully re-stacking the bookshelves in the library. "We're almost done, now," Inza said with a smile.

All at once Dr. Fate paused as the comm.-link in his ear buzzed. "Metro Tower to Dr. Fate; come in, please," a voice intoned over the frequency.

In response, Dr. Fate lifted his helmet slightly with one hand, enough so he could slip the other hand underneath it and reach his ear where the comm.-link sat. "Dr. Fate reporting," he answered. "What seems to be the trouble, Metro Tower?"

"There's a problem in Central City; the Flash needs backup to contain it," the voice replied. "You're the only Leaguer within our range who should be on call at this time. Can you assist?"

"I understand. I'm on my way there now." Dr. Fate cut off the frequency; then, fixing his helmet, he looked at Inza and Amazo. "I'm sorry, but League duty calls. It's probably something of an arcane nature that Flash needs assistance with."

"Don't worry about it, dear; go," Inza said softly. "Amazo and I will handle things here."

"Thank you," Dr. Fate nodded. "Oh, could you let me have that book you found, Inza? I may need to share what you found with Flash."

"Certainly; it's right there on the table," and Inza pointed to where the book in question was.

Nodding, Dr. Fate reached over and picked the book up, putting it away within his robes. Then he stretched his arms out to the side, and almost instantly a large ankh-shaped symbol emerged in glowing purple and yellow energy behind him; he then vanished into it even as Inza and Amazo watched.

----------

_**The streets of Keystone City, 1:44 p.m.**_

Linda Park's news van was cruising along the road, its windshield wipers flicking the ever-resurging raindrops off. "Oh, come on, can't we go any faster?" Linda complained.

"No can do, Linda," the driver answered. "I'm not going to risk putting us in a skid on these roads—it IS still raining, after all."

"Besides, Linda, it's not like the Thinker's going anywhere," Marla pointed out. "This is Iron Heights we're talking about."

Linda sighed and sat back, crossing her arms and pouting. "Well, at least how much longer do we have before we get there?" she wondered.

"Another couple of minutes till we reach the turn-off to head to Iron Heights," one of the other crew-members responded. "Then, uh, twenty minutes, maybe?"

"Great…" Linda shook her head.

_Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom._

"Huh?" Linda cocked an eyebrow. "Hey…you guys hear that?"

"Yeah, I heard it," Marla nodded. "Probably just the thunder."

_BOOM. BOOM. BOOM._

Linda shook her head slowly, frowning. "No…it's almost like it's getting louder," she observed. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was—"

All at once a yellow blur flashed past the news van and went ahead of them…then a split-second later—_KRA-KOOM! _The back end of the van was violently lifted into the air, staying there for a moment before crashing back onto the pavement, jarring the van's inhabitants. "WHOA!" the driver exclaimed, even as the van skidded out of control and slammed sideways into the side of a parked car.

"Ow…" Linda flinched, having been painfully jostled. "What happened…?"

----------

Not far away, Flash dashed across the bridge separating Central and Keystone Cities even as the sonic booms continued right into the latter city. Then, running past traffic and along avenues, he was just in time to see a streak of yellow heading up the street—and numerous loud clicking sounds caught his ear, split seconds before the walls of various buildings exploded outward and several vehicles got flung here and there from the impact of some invisible force! "Okay…that's not natural," he decided.

Glancing to one side, he immediately saw that one of the now-airborne cars, sent sailing by the booms, was heading right for a terrified mother and child. Immediately he rushed over to them, grabbed them both, and hauled them out of harm's way just as the car slammed right into the wall they'd been standing close to. "You guys okay?" he demanded.

"We are now…thanks to you," the woman answered gratefully, even as she comforted her child who'd started crying.

"Ah, no biggie, just doing what I do be—" Flash never finished the sentence, as from out of nowhere, the same yellow streak he'd just seen rushed right up to him and slammed into him with unrelenting force, sending him flying several yards away! Presently he landed on the slippery pavement, skidding along for several more feet before finally coming to a stop.

"Okay, who's the wise guy?" Flash demanded, sitting up—but suddenly a red boot slammed down on his chest, forcing him back onto the ground. "Ow! Hey!"

"Stay right under my heel, Flash…that's where trash like you belongs," a gravelly voice declared.

Flinching from the pressure of the boot on his chest, Flash looked up—and as lightning suddenly lit up the sky far above, his eyes widened and his mouth flopped open. For there, standing over him, illuminated by the brief flash of lightning, was a man dressed in a costume like his, but with the colors reversed. This vision swiftly brought a similar memory back to his mind…

----------

"_Slacker! Child! Clown!"_

_Flash dodged the blows flung at him by his robotic counterpart. He and the other members of the Justice League's original seven were in the midst of battle with robotic versions of the Justice Lords, conjured into existence by Brainiac-Luthor. The Lords were the League's counterparts from another dimension, but were much more ruthless…and just because these were only robotic representations did not mean they were any less dangerous, as they had all of their powers. This robot-Flash he was facing was supposed to be Brainiac-Luthor's interpretation of what the Lords' Flash would have probably looked like, had he been alive in their world. The robot copy, at present, was wearing a reversed-colored version of Flash's own costume._

"_We have no place here among the world's greatest heroes!" Lord Flash declared._

_Flash scoffed at that. "Says you!" he shot back. "I got a seat at the big conference table!" He held up his fist and began to vibrate it at super-speed. "I'm gonna paint my logo on it!" And then he dashed forward and punched a hole straight through Lord Flash's stomach, vibrating his whole arm and causing the robot's nanotech body to explode into pieces…_

----------

"…Justice Lord…Flash…?"

The stranger standing over him snorted. "I don't know what you mean by 'Justice Lord,' but that is _definitely _not my name," he announced.

"No…no way…" Flash winced as the pressure from the foot pressing down on him grew. "…but…who…?" Confusion was now etched into his features as he made the query.

The mirror-image of himself leaned down to look at him. "I am Zoom. And you are dead."

_**CHAPTER 23 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 24 COMING UP!**_


	24. Chapter 24

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 24

_**The streets of Keystone City, 1:47 p.m.**_

"I…I don't get it…" Flash stared up at Zoom. "What's your beef with me? Oh, wait, I think I get it—I got the design for my costume officially acknowledged before you could copyright yours, huh?"

For answer he got Zoom's foot shoved down harder on his chest. "Everything's one big joke to you, isn't it, Flash?" Zoom snarled at him. "Well, laugh at this: I'm going to do what nobody from your pathetic rogues' gallery could ever do—I'm going to put you out of my misery!"

He dropped down to his knees, grabbed Flash by the throat, and started to throttle him. "You costumed freaks are all nothing but show-offs and spotlight thieves!" he raged. "Let me illustrate for you, punk. That vigilante Batman makes the Gotham City cops look useless. That alien menace Superman makes the Metropolis cops look weak. Then there's you—_you_ make the Central-Keystone cops look lazy! And I'm not going to tolerate that one second longer!"

Choking and gasping for air even as Zoom continued to strangle him, Flash tried to flail one toward the yellow speedster's face—but Zoom merely ducked his head down slightly, causing Flash to miss altogether. "You're…full of it…" Flash managed to gasp out.

Zoom's grip on Flash's neck tightened. "Is dying one of the things you _don't_ do at super-speed, wuss?" he exclaimed angrily.

Flash's hand dropped palm-down onto the ground…and he smirked in spite of Zoom constricting him. "…yeah…"

Suddenly Zoom heard a sort of whirring noise, quite close by. Looking to one side of Flash, he noticed that the Scarlet Speedster's hand was vibrating wildly against the pavement—and his eyes widened in realization. "Oh, holy—"

_SHA-BOOM!_ The explosion that followed consumed both of them, sending shards of gravel flying in every direction…and when the smoke cleared, there was a nice gaping hole where the two had been only moments ago.

----------

Linda gingerly stepped out of the news van, flinching as she held her side. "You all right, Linda?" Marla, emerging from the van as well, regarded her partner worriedly.

"Just a bruised rib from the crash, I think," Linda replied. "More importantly, we gotta find out what that was that nearly ran us off the road just now. There's nothing in this area that can move THAT fast!"

"Except for Flash," Marla reminded her.

"I know that—I'm just saying!" Linda argued. "Anyway, where do we start looking…"

Hardly had she asked the question when, some distance away, they heard a loud crashing sound. "There's our answer! Follow the sound of destruction!" Linda said gleefully. "And don't forget the camera!"

Marla shook her head as she covered her camera in some plastic wrap. "Oh, brother…" She glanced into the van. "You guys all right? Let's get a move-on—we've got footage to shoot!"

Up ahead, Linda was standing at the street corner…looking up ahead at a large hole in the ground not more than twenty feet away, with smoke still rising from it. "What in the world is going on all of a sudden?" she wondered.

----------

Below the city street…Flash was sitting up and leaning against the wall, coughing as he fought to regain his breath. Not far away, facedown in the sewer water, Zoom slowly got back up, rage written all over his face. "You…are going…to REGRET THAT!" he spat, standing up completely.

"Just try and catch me first!" Flash stood up and shot off down the sewer passageway. "I'm the Fastest Man Alive, after all!"

Jumping up onto the platform running alongside the water, Zoom vibrated his whole body, swiftly shaking the sewer water off him. Then he glanced up and scowled—and a few seconds later, he was rushing up the passageway until he was right next to an astonished Flash. "According to _whom?"_ he demanded, before backhanding Flash off the platform and into the water.

Flash landed face-first into the water—but before he could right himself, Zoom jumped in on top of him and grabbed his neck again, this time forcing his whole head underwater. "Hurry up and die already, punk!" Zoom shouted.

Thrashing violently even as he involuntarily took in water, Flash lunged backwards desperately with one elbow, striking Zoom hard on the shin just below the kneecap. Flinching, Zoom tumbled forward and to one side into the water, and Flash immediately brought his head up and coughed loud and long, expelling water from his own mouth in the process. "Ugh! Dude, do you even KNOW what was in this water?" Flash exclaimed in horror.

Rubbing his leg where Flash had elbowed him, Zoom glared at him. "Doesn't look as if you understand just yet how serious your situation's become," he glowered. "All right…fine, I'll show you the hard way."

"What? So you mean the whole choking me and drowning me bit was the _easy_ way?" Flash raised an eyebrow.

Without replying, Zoom stood back up, turned, and jetted off down the passageway toward a nearby ladder that would lead topside. "Hey, wait up!" Flash exclaimed, running off after him.

----------

Linda, Marla, and the rest of their crew were examining the gaping hole in the middle of the street. "What do you guys suppose caused this?" Linda asked.

"How should we know?" a crew member asked.

All at once, without warning, two streaks—one yellow, one red—flashed past the group, leaving a blast of wind behind. "Ack!" Linda shrieked, holding down the front of her skirt lest the wind blow it up. "What the heck was that?"

"Uh…" Marla looked up the street, after the rapidly-vanishing streaks. "I _think_ one of those was Flash…"

"Quick—back to the van!" Linda ordered. "We've gotta catch those…whatever they were! This could be the big scoop of the day—the Thinker can wait!"

----------

_**Central City, 1:55 p.m.**_

Two pillars of shining light materialized in an alley…and then a moment later Booster Gold and the Question emerged, looking around. "Wish I'd brought my umbrella…I hate rainy days…" Question grumbled, looking up at the light drizzle that was coming down.

"Quit complaining—at least you've got something to cover your head," and Booster pointed out Question's fedora. "Anyway, what should we do now? There's no sign of Flash anywhere…"

"But there does seem to have been quite an ounce of chaos," and Question pointed out a scene across the street, where several cars and a truck were overturned to the point of being upside down, several windows had their glass blasted out, and a fire hydrant was laying in the middle of the street even as water spouted out from the spot where it used to be situated.

Suddenly, an ankh-shaped pillar of energy materialized right near them…and Dr. Fate emerged, gold helmet and all. "Booster Gold, Question," he greeted them. "Has either of you seen the Flash?"

"We just arrived here ourselves, actually," Question admitted.

In that moment, two streaks of different colors rushed past the entrance to the alley, grabbing the men's attention. "Was that Flash?" Booster asked.

Dr Fate held up a hand momentarily. "Hmmm…this energy signature that's just passed by…I recognize it as Flash's," he acknowledged. "But there's another energy signature along with it…similar, but not the same."

"Well, you two can go ahead and find Flash, and give him whatever help he needs," Question told them.

"And what are _you_ going to do?" Booster eyed him suspiciously.

"I'm going to find a bird's eye view of the city and assess whatever damage has accumulated," Question replied. "Besides, from what I saw a moment ago, Flash seems to be fighting a meta-human who can keep pace with him. How long do you think I, a human with no superpowers, would last against someone like that?"

"Point noted," Dr. Fate nodded. "Very well, we'll go on ahead. Just stay in contact with us at all times—we may still need backup from you."

And with that, Booster and Dr. Fate flew off, leaving Question alone in the alley. Shrugging, Question turned and walked away, tipping his hat as he did so.

----------

"Come back here!" Flash cried, running as hard as he could in order to keep up with Zoom.

"Make me, chump!" Zoom shot back—but then he stopped abruptly and held out one arm. Not expecting the sudden stop, Flash ran face-first right into the arm, flipping a full 360 degrees before landing on the street.

Zoom scoffed. "Just as I expected," he chuckled. "To anybody else you might move at light-speed and be nigh-untouchable…but to me, you're nothing less than predictable."

Flash shook his head to clear the stars away from his vision. "Why, you—" but that was as far as he got before Zoom shot up to him and planted the sole of his boot into the other man's face, sending him flying again. But Zoom didn't stop—he ran forward, grabbed Flash's leg and pulled him out of the air, spinning wildly before releasing his hold. Flash ended up sailing, arms and legs flailing helplessly, straight through the window of a café and startling the patrons inside in the process!

"Ow…" Flash winced and held his head where he'd struck it against the side of a table. "Hey, everybody okay in here?"

"_You're_ asking _us?"_ one diner asked in astonishment.

Zoom came up to the shattered window and looked in, laughing as he did so. "Ha! So THIS is the power of the great protector of the Central-Keystone area!" he scoffed. "You're a joke, Flash—a living, breathing joke!"

Flash raised himself on one knee. "I'm a joke, huh?" he asked. "Well…here's the—"

A second later he was dashing toward Zoom, one fist upraised. "PUNCH LINE!" he finished as he jumped through the window and slammed his fist into Zoom's face, knocking the other speedster away with such force that he ended up on the other side of the street. "Yeah, you've got a point—that WAS a good joke! I ought to use it in my acts more often!"

Shaking his head and holding his bruised cheek, Zoom smiled nastily as he got back up. "Looks like you've got some fight in you after all, Flash," he declared. "Perfect…this will make your death at my hands all the more satisfying. It would've been such a bore to kill you if you weren't able to fight back."

"Okay, dude, make up your mind—first you want to kill me quick and dead, now you want to drag it on a little longer. Which one is it, already?" Flash asked in exasperation.

"Now, see, that's where you're slightly off base." Now Zoom's smile vanished. "I don't want to just kill you, Flash…I want to _break_ you."

"Break me, huh? What makes you think you can do that?" Flash wondered.

Zoom chuckled. "I'll show you." And—then he was gone in a flash of yellow.

"HEY! Get back here!" Flash shouted, running after Zoom even as the café's patrons looked on in stupefaction.

"Just try and keep up, Flash!" Zoom flung over his shoulder…and then he ducked into a bank. Scowling, Flash ran a little faster—but just as he approached the building's entrance, Zoom shot back out and past him, heading for a series of skyscrapers nearby.

"Okay, I have just about—" Suddenly Flash froze as he realized that Zoom had been holding on to something, two things actually, one under each arm. "Wait…what did he…?" He tore off after his foe.

Running along, Flash eventually closed in on the skyscrapers—and realized in the process that this was the site of Central City's biggest shopping plaza. Not many people were out here today, on account of the rain, but those that were seemed to be looking up towards the top of one particular building. "Hey, folks," he called out, "have any of you seen a guy in a yellow costume? He was coming this way and…"

"Yeah, Flash, we've seen him!" one guy immediately spoke up. "He went up to the top of this building here—and he looked as if he had a lady and a kid with him!"

Instantly Flash paled. "Dear God, no…" he whispered—then shot up the side of the skyscraper, stampeding like a super-fast madman toward the top. Then, one minute later, he reached the building's peak, and looked around frantically. "Zoom?"

The rooftop was fairly large, with a few columns standing out here and there. Tentatively, Flash walked forward, looking around in case Zoom might try a sneak attack on him from somewhere. "Come on, man, come on out," he insisted. "Where are you?"

A sudden movement from behind one of the columns caught his eye. He zipped over to that column—but nothing was there. Then…another movement from behind a different column. He raced over to that one—again, nothing. On impulse, he glanced around behind him—but saw nobody there.

"For a guy who says he's the Fastest Man Alive, you're exceptionally slow."

Flash turned at the sound of the voice, facing the same side of the roof from which he'd come up the building…and there stood Zoom, on the edge, a malicious smirk on his lips. He had one arm around a young woman's shoulders, using that hand to cover her mouth tightly. In his other arm he cradled a baby, wrapped up snugly in a blanket. The baby was wailing loudly; Zoom bounced his arm a little. "Shh, shh, it's okay, little fella," he cooed to the baby.

Flash felt an icy chill go up his spine as he took in this scene. "Hey, man…you don't have to do this…they're not involved in this!"

"Aren't they?" Zoom countered. "Why don't you think about that for a minute, Flash? Oh, wait, how silly of me—thinking isn't one of your strong points, now is it?"

"Come on, dude, let them go," Flash began. "Oh—wait—no—I mean—DON'T let them go! I mean, not right now!"

"See what I mean? You've even managed to confuse yourself." Zoom laughed contemptuously. "But then again, that's something you're talented at, isn't it? Fooling people to think one thing about you, when the truth is a whole other matter?"

"What're you talking about?" Flash demanded.

"Let me explain something to you, boy, and try to keep up with what I'm saying," Zoom told him in a mocking voice. "The men and women of Central and Keystone Cities cheer your name every day when they see you in town, or even when you're just passing them by on the street. The children practically worship you—all they're missing is burnt incense and an idol to bow down to. No, wait, scratch that—they DO have an idol of you to bow down to. That infernal statue in front of your blasted Flash Museum, which, by the way, can practically serve as a temple in and of itself. For crying out loud, even Central City's mayor dedicated a day to you—Flash Appreciation Day—and gave you the key to the city!"

His eyes narrowed and his lip curled into a snarl as he continued to talk. "And THAT, right there, is a full embodiment of why you so-called superheroes are nothing more than a bunch of masked charlatans! You take the trust of the people who you've taken it upon yourselves to protect, and twist that trust for your own gain! You and those alleged 'super-villains' are all in the same boat—causing unnecessary damage and extra cost to the regular people who get caught in the middle of your little firefights! And then what happens? Loved ones get hurt or killed when they didn't have to be…greater damage is done than what would be expected…higher costs are incurred…and in the midst of it all, the _real_ heroes, the police, the nurses, the teachers, the social workers—they all get swept under the rug, while the meta-humans and vigilantes get all the accolades and the freak-shows that they fight just get locked away, only to reappear and do the whole serenade all over again!"

At that Flash frowned deeply. "Okay, a lot of what you've just said sounds like something a certain cop I know would say. But here's what I don't get. Coming from him, I could appreciate that argument, but…what's your beef? What's with all that resentment you've got? Plus, YOU'RE a meta-human too, in case you don't know, and you're wearing a re-colored version of my costume too. So who are you to be making that same kind of argument, when you're contradicting yourself just by dressing like that and having those super-powers?"

Zoom smirked once again. "Seems you know how to use big words after all, Flash," he said with a taunting look on his face. "Who would've thought a showboating slacker like you actually had a decent vocabulary?"

Flash just glared at him.

"Now, now, don't look so frustrated, boy…you really want to know, don't you? Well, fine, I'll tell you—or better yet, I'll show you." Zoom then removed his hand from the woman's mouth. "Listen here, girl, and listen good. If you try any tactic to escape me, I'll toss your kid over the edge. Got it?"

Evidently struck dumb from fear, the woman simply nodded. Turning his face back to Flash, and keeping his arm around the woman's neck, Zoom leaned his head forward slightly and gripped the bottom of his mask with his now-free hand. "You're probably thinking that today was the first time you and I were meeting in person, huh, Flash?" he asked. "Well…sorry to disappoint you."

Then, with a flourish, he pulled the mask up and over his head—and Flash's eyes widened when he saw the face underneath it. "Whoa…" He involuntarily took a step backward, then stumbled and fell down on his rear. But this he barely even noticed, as he continued to stare in shock. "No way…this can't be real…"

----------

The news van screeched to a stop near the steps leading from the street to the plaza's entrance. Instantly, Linda slid the door open and jumped out eagerly. "What luck! Good thing we managed to catch the Flash coming this way!" she exclaimed brightly.

Marla and the rest of the crew emerged from the van, Marla still clutching her plastic-wrapped camera. "Linda, remember your rib…" she warned.

"Forget about that! Injured ribs don't make breaking news stories—but Flash always does!" Linda gestured to her crew to hurry up. "Come on, let's go! We don't want to miss anything else!"

"That girl is way too hyper to be in this line of work," Marla grumbled, even as she and the crew followed Linda up the steps.

Presently the group emerged on the plaza's main grounds, in time to see a growing crowd of people talking noisily; the majority of that crowd appeared to be looking and pointing upwards. "Okay, now what's happening?" Linda wondered. "Let's get closer."

So saying, they approached the edge of the crowd. "Excuse me, sir…" Linda reached forward and tapped a man on his shoulder. "Can you tell me what's going on?"

"Lady, I have no idea," the man answered her. "All I know for sure is that Flash was chasing after something yellow…"

Another man quickly spoke up. "It was some guy in a yellow suit—and now he's got a couple of hostages up there!" And he pointed all the way to the top of the building that everyone had been observing.

"Hostages?" Linda spun around to face her crew. "Quick, gimme a mike!"

One of the crew immediately pulled out a cordless microphone and handed it to her. "Marla, rolling?" Linda asked as she hurriedly smoothed her hair back with one hand.

"Yeah, Linda, tape's rolling; go ahead," and Marla steadied the camera.

Linda held up the microphone. "This is Linda Park, Channel 4 News, bringing you exclusive coverage of a battle involving our city's beloved superhero, the Flash. From what reports I've been able to gather so far, Flash was involved in a chase with a so-far-unidentified super-criminal, and they're on the roof of this building that you see behind me…and evidently, the criminal has hostages as well."

Linda then gestured to Marla to tilt the camera up. Nodding with understanding, Marla pointed the camera to the skyscraper's roof, adjusted the lens a little…and then very nearly dropped the camera. "Oh, my God…Linda…"

"What is it?" Linda asked.

"That guy up there…in the yellow suit…" Marla's hands were trembling. "I can't really tell for sure, but it looks like he's got a mother and baby near the edge of the roof!"

Linda's face turned white. "You're kidding…he's not seriously thinking of…!"

----------

Flash swallowed audibly. "Hunter…Zolomon…? You're…but how…?"

"Poor, dense kid." Zoom replaced his mask over his face. "Anyone who's heard Zolomon's opinion on people like you who wear masks and costumes, and then heard what I'd said only a moment ago, would've already made the connection without me having to unmask myself." He replaced his hand over the frightened woman's mouth, and absently rocked the baby in his other arm. "But I guess we can't all have sensible insight, now can we?"

"But…your leg…" Flash was at a loss.

"My leg?" Zoom chuckled. "What about it? It's true, Zolomon had a limp in one leg and had to walk with a cane…but all that changed when he got caught in a certain lab accident earlier this morning. He got hit by lightning, covered in a whole mess of chemicals…and then I was born."

Flash flinched inwardly. _Man…I should've known… _"Okay, look, can't we talk this over? I mean, you're a cop! You're supposed to be protecting and serving!"

"As if Zolomon, or any other cop, could ever do that with YOU around!" Zoom spat. "And for your information, Flash, don't refer to me and Zolomon as the same person anymore. I may have his body, I may have his face, I may even have his memories…but he died in that accident. And now, I'm going to do all the stuff that he was too weak and restricted to do himself! I'm going to honor his memory…fulfill his desire…uphold his standards in his place!"

"You've really gone over the deep end…" Flash said quietly.

"Think whatever you want—it won't change the fact that, unlike you, Zolomon never had to hide his face behind a mask to do a cop's job!" Zoom answered. "You hide your identity behind that mask of yours and use it instead of a badge to do what the cops are supposed to be doing but aren't! And as a result, the people of this city are just about ready to put their lives in your hands! Which brings us back to our little situation at hand…"

He chuckled again, looking from the woman to the baby. "You've become a little too comfortable in your self-appointed role as protector of the Central-Keystone area, Flash," he went on. "Everything comes easy for you—you get the admiration of the people without breaking a sweat or working your fingers to the bone. Frankly, Zolomon sweated till his shirts were drenched, worked his fingers till they were sore and tired, and what did he ever get, huh? Well, I do believe—as he did—that it's about high time you actually _earned_ the right to be called a real hero!"

"C'mon, dude…don't do this…" Flash urged him, but with a growing note of desperation creeping into his voice.

"Uh-uh-uh, Flash—you're not the one calling the shots this time around," Zoom rebuked him. "Now, time for a little lesson in how to earn the status of a genuine hero. The real heroes have to make painful choices every day, you see. Cops routinely have to decide whether to keep suspected criminals detained or release them back into society due to lack of evidence. Doctors and nurses have to decide whether to keep patients on life support or pull the plug. Social workers have to decide whether or not to send children home to guardians they despise, for the sake of keeping those children out of the system, whether or not those guardians are fit for the task. Teachers have to decide whether to confront students that are suspected of bullying and abusing other students, or sitting back out of fear of being hurt themselves. All these people are doing thankless jobs where they have to call shots one way or another, and the choice is never an easy one for them."

Then Zoom's eyes narrowed. "Now, here's one for you to make, for once in your life, Flash. Which one of these two will I sacrifice?" He gestured to the woman. "This young mother? Or…" He gestured to the whimpering baby. "Will it be her child?" He looked back at Flash. "One way or the other, somebody's going to suffer for the decision you make next: Either this woman will suffer because her child died due to your negligence, or this child will suffer because he'll end up in foster care, and who knows what'll happen to him afterwards, at such a tender age."

"No…come on, man, you don't need to do this!" Flash protested.

"I'm still not hearing what your decision's going to be," Zoom responded. "Hmmm, maybe I'll just have to force the decision out of you! Now…DECIDE!"

To Flash's horror, Zoom turned and roughly shoved the young mother off the ledge—then, in one fluid movement, he turned and tossed the baby over the ledge in a different direction! "NO!" Flash yelled, jumping up and racing forward with one hand helplessly outstretched and terror written all over his face…

_**CHAPTER 24 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 25 COMING UP!**_


	25. Chapter 25

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 25

_**Central City Shopping Plaza, 2:00 p.m.**_

"Lord…" Marla's eyes widened in horror as she saw, through her camera lens, the mother and baby being tossed off the skyscraper's roof in opposite directions. The other bystanders, seeing this, immediately began to scream in panic.

"That guy threw them too far apart—does he want Flash to choose between them or something?" Linda exclaimed, even as far above them, Flash's familiar streak of red was already running down the side of the skyscraper. "Come on, Flash—hurry and do something!"

"No good, Linda—those two are falling too far away from the side of the building for Flash to just reach out and grab them!" Marla countered. "And even if he jumps for either one, he can't fly!"

"But still…!" Linda flinched as she continued to watch the two falling bodies and the charging Scarlet Speedster.

----------

Up on the skyscraper's wall, Flash was running at a pace fast enough that he wouldn't lose his sense of gravity traveling on the vertical surface, yet at the same time he would be able to keep pace with the screaming mother and crying baby even as they fell on either side of him. _Wonderful…this skyscraper's a hundred floors high, and already we've gone seven floors…and they're both too far wide from the wall! If I try to jump and grab one of them, we might all go splat! Only one chance…a slim one, but I'd better make it count, or else…!_

"Lady!" he shouted to the woman. "Gimme your hand! I'm gonna try and grab you!"

"I—I can't!" the woman screamed back, the terror still etched on her face. "I'm not close enough! You'll never be able to reach me!"

"Nothing tried, nothing done!" Flash shot back. "Give me your hand!"

Breathing sharply and audibly in her fear, the woman stretched out a hand to Flash. He, in turn, reached out to her—but there was still a considerable distance of two feet between them! "Aw, man!" Flash cried out.

They were on the seventy-fifth floor by this point. Flash again tried reaching for the woman…no success. Then—an idea struck him. "Hey! Take off your belt!"

"What?" the woman exclaimed, incredulous.

"Take off your belt! Hurry up!" Flash yelled.

With a disbelieving look on her face, the woman began to unbuckle her belt—but then she screamed, "LOOK OUT! BEHIND YOU!"

Turning his head slightly, Flash saw—to his horror—Zoom rushing down the side of the building, coming straight toward him with the speed of a bullet train! "Whoa!" he exclaimed, jumping slightly to one side and causing Zoom to miss him by scant inches.

"You didn't think I was going to let it be _that_ easy for you, did you?" Zoom shouted at him, even as the yellow speedster slowed his pace somewhat so Flash could catch up to him again.

"Buzz off, dude!" Flash snapped. "They'll both die if I can't save them in time!"

"That's the general idea!" Zoom responded, even as he flung his arm around in a backhand that Flash just narrowly missed. "And you'd better hurry up about it, too—we just went past Floor 64!"

Scowling at this information, Flash turned back to the woman. "Is your belt off yet?"

"Almost…yes!" the woman answered, and she held up her newly-removed belt.

"Good!" Flash nodded. "Now, buckle it so that it makes a loop—ACK!" He suddenly choked as Zoom wrapped one arm around his neck, simultaneously sending three-hyper-fast punches with his free fist into the Scarlet Speedster's stomach.

Gritting her teeth nervously at this development, the woman did as instructed, looping the belt through the buckle so that it formed a pseudo-lasso. "Got it!" she cried.

Swiftly Flash fired an elbow right upward into Zoom's jaw, knocking the other speedster off-balance. "You got it? Swing it here!"

The woman wasted no time in doing so. Flash reached out and made several attempts to grab the belt-lasso…and then managed to grab hold on the fifth try. "GOT IT!" he yelled jubilantly. "All right, now I'm gonna drag you in! Hold on to your end and don't let go!"

Nodding, the woman held on tightly to her end of the belt, allowing Flash to pull her in to his position. Flash promptly grabbed her around the waist, while she in turn wrapped her arms round his neck. "Okay—now for your kid!" Flash told her.

"Hurry, Flash!" the woman pleaded. "We're getting closer to ground level, you know!"

Flash gritted his teeth at the reminder. _She's right…we just passed the forty-first floor!_

"Hey, Flash! Heads up!"

Glancing to his right, Flash saw Zoom coming at him again, this time with one fist upraised and ready to strike. Snarling as he saw this, Flash gripped the woman's belt in one hand while maintaining a firm hold on her with the other—and suddenly shifted to one side, heading straight for Zoom himself! "What the—" Zoom started, his eyes widening in surprise at this tactic—but then all of a sudden his face stung all over as Flash slapped him multiple times at super-speed with the belt. "AAARGH!"

While Zoom flinched, covered his face in agony, and slowed down so as to fall behind, Flash sped on ahead and further to the other side of the wall…and now he was only a few feet away from the wailing baby, even as his mind barely registered that they were currently on the thirty-sixth floor. "All right, lady…for your kid's sake, it's all or nothing!" he declared loudly. "Time to rope him in!"

Swinging the lassoed belt around a few times, Flash cast it toward the baby—and missed. Frowning, he cast it again—no dice. "Flash, please! Hurry!" the woman implored him.

_Thirtieth floor…not much time! _"Hang on, little guy!" Flash yelled as he cast the belt again…and the loop went around the infant's shrieking form.

"GOT HIM!" Flash cried triumphantly. "All right…now I gotta reel him in, real nice and gentle…"

At that moment the woman looked over Flash's shoulder—and blanched. "Flash! That guy's coming back again!"

And indeed, Zoom was rocketing straight for Flash's back, a picture of real rage plastered on his face. "You're going down!" he yelled as, much to Flash's shock, he took a flying dive and shot straight toward the Scarlet Speedster, hands clasped behind his head in a prepared hammer-punch.

Flash's eyes widened at this. _Oh, no! At the speed he was going just now—there's no way I can dodge him and keep this belt lassoed onto the kid! There's no way! No—HUH?_

And a confused look was suddenly emerging on Zoom's face, too, even as he inexplicably appeared to be left far behind from Flash's viewpoint. "HEY! Where'd this—this energy come from?" he exclaimed in shock.

For now Zoom's body was outlined by a mysterious glowing blue energy field, suspending him in mid-air! He tried punching and kicking, but the energy wouldn't dissolve. "WHAT'S GOING ON ALL OF A SUDDEN?" he bellowed.

Blinking in confusion himself, Flash then glanced around…and got his answer. "Dr. Fate! Booster! You're here?"

Indeed, flying in with both hands outstretched in Zoom's direction was Dr. Fate, with Booster not very far behind him. Dr. Fate's hands seemed to be glowing with the same blue energy that currently surrounded Zoom. "Don't worry, Flash—we've got your back!" Booster yelled to him. "Just get those two to safety now!"

"Got it!" Flash yelled back. "Okay, then, in that case, where was I…?"

Resuming his firm grip on the belt, he carefully pulled the infant toward him. Carefully…carefully…and then the child was within the woman's grabbing reach, and she pulled him out of the air and close to her. "My baby!" she sobbed, even as the baby whimpered into her neck.

"Don't worry; you're both safe now," Flash assured her…and he himself breathed a sigh of relief as he noted that now they were swiftly approaching the tenth floor, and he could hear the screams of the bystanders on the ground turning to cheers. And then—a few moments later, he, the woman, and the baby were all safely on the ground.

"Way to go, Flash! You really did it, man!" the civilians were cheering him.

The young mother, comforting her baby, wrapped an arm around Flash's neck in a grateful embrace. "You saved us both…thank you so much," she whispered, sobbing quietly.

"Sure thing," Flash nodded with understanding. "You gotta thank those guys up there, too—if they hadn't come along when they did…" He briefly pointed out Dr. Fate and Booster, still hovering several floors above them. "Anyway, why don't you take your little man out of here? Something tells me he's seen enough excitement for one day."

Not far away, Linda breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Whew…almost had a heart attack…"

Marla, however, kept her camera pointed upwards. "Linda…check it out…now that I've got a proper shot of that super-criminal, I can't believe what he's wearing!"

Linda looked upward and frowned. "Uh…am I going blind, or is that supposed to be a reverse-colored copy of Flash's suit?"

"Not unless we're both going blind," Marla answered.

----------

Up above the crowd, on the skyscraper's twenty-second floor, Zoom scowled at Dr. Fate and Booster even as he himself remained trapped in the mystical blue energy field. "Let me guess…two of Flash's Justice League buddies?" he asked sarcastically.

"You should be more concerned with your fate once you are handed over to the authorities," Dr. Fate said sternly. "Endangering the lives of a mother and child is nothing short of unforgivable."

"Aw, can't I knock him out? It's not like he's gonna be able to resist, with that spell you cast on him just now," said Booster.

"There's no need for that—he's already incapacitated as it is," Dr. Fate rebutted.

But suddenly Zoom smirked. "Actually, magic-freak, you would've done better to take that suggestion…although it wouldn't matter one way or the other. Allow me to show you why."

Then, holding both hands up, he clapped them together once, at super-speed…and all of a sudden the skyscraper's very foundation was rocked as the immense sonic boom blasted the glass out of the building's windows and out of the windows of all the other buildings within close proximity. Knocked off-balance by the boom, both Booster and Dr. Fate were sent spinning head-over-heels toward the ground, only barely managing to correct themselves at the last moment. "OW!" Booster cried out, holding both ears with his face contorted in agony.

"Uh…" Dr. Fate appeared to have been dizzied by the impact of the sonic boom, even as the noise itself still reverberated through his helmet.

As for Zoom—he was free-falling now, along with several thousand shards of broken glass from the windows! "Look out below, cretins!" he shouted, even as the citizens scattered for cover from the falling glass.

----------

"Flash! That guy—he's gonna get himself killed!" Linda exclaimed, even as Marla kept the camera focused on the falling Zoom.

"You guys get clear!" Flash ordered. "And take these two with you!" he added, ushering the newly-rescued mother and baby over to the news crew.

As the group hurried off, Flash turned his attention to Zoom and the falling glass. Raising both arms to the sky, he began to rotate them at super-speed, until he'd created a miniature whirlwind that halted the fall of the glass and swirled it above his head—but as he did this, to his surprise, he saw Zoom rotating his own arms at super-speed as well, only pointing his arms down toward the ground! "Hey! What d'you think you're doing?" he shouted.

"What's it look like, boy?" Zoom yelled back at him. "I'm not going to let myself be rescued by YOU!"

The two whirlwinds created by the two speedsters collided with each other, resulting in an intense blast of wind that fairly knocked Flash to the ground and sent the glass shards flying in every direction. Many of the bystanders, watching from a distance, had to duck down and take cover as the numerous pieces of glass got forcefully embedded in the gravel and in the trunks of nearby trees! Zoom himself, his fall having been sufficiently slowed by the colliding super-speed winds, landed on all fours with ease. "All right!" he snapped. "I'm seriously getting tired of this now—no more playing games with you!"

Out of the corner of his eye, though, he saw Booster flying toward him with one arm drawn back to punch him. "You meddlers need to learn to mind your own business!" he yelled as, with abnormal reflexes, he grabbed Booster's arm just as the other man punched at him, spun him around twice, and slammed him hard onto the ground. But even as Booster got the wind knocked out of him at the force of impact on the concrete, Zoom swiftly raised one foot and stomped down hard on Booster's shoulder even as he continued holding the other man's wrist in both hands.

"GAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Booster screamed in agony as he felt a _crack_ in his shoulder-joint. Automatically he reached his opposing hand to his shoulder—and there Zoom was, crouched over his torso, firing machine-gun punches into his face and chest.

"_Get off him!"_ Flash yelled, jumping up and running toward Zoom. Raising a fist, he prepared to strike—but suddenly Zoom stood up, grabbed Flash's oncoming punch in one hand, and countered with three super-swift punches of his own—one to Flash's stomach, one to his chest, and the last to his face, knocking him back.

"Wait your turn, Flash," Zoom said stoutly. "Once I finish dealing with your two buddies, I'll have plenty of energy left to take care of yo—AAAH!"

A blast of energy hit him in the side, knocking him several yards back. Meanwhile, holding one hand to his head even as his other hand glowed with mystic power, Dr. Fate staggered a little. "Ugh…"

"Hey, Doc…you all right there?" Flash asked worriedly, picking himself back up and holding himself where Zoom had punched him.

"Still…still disoriented…from that…sonic boom…" Dr. Fate fell to one knee. "But…I can still fight!"

"Aaaagh…" Not very far away, Booster sucked air through his teeth and grimaced as he sat up, holding onto his injured shoulder. "Guys…how about a little help…?"

A sudden yellow blur shot past him, even as from that same blur a red-booted foot delivered a kick to Booster's face, spinning him around and knocking him back down! The yellow blur then ran up to Dr. Fate, materializing into the form of a very enraged Zoom—and he held up both hands close to the sorcerer's head and snapped his fingers several times at super-speed! "AAAAAAAAHHHH!" Dr. Fate howled in torture as the noise of the resulting sonic booms reverberated inside his helmet, even as the impact of the booms themselves sent him rocketing off into the side of a nearby building, slamming into its wall with crushing impact!

Flash took in what had just happened at a glance. "Fate! Booster!" he cried out—just before Zoom shot up to him, grabbed him by the throat with one hand and the waist of his suit with the other, and force-ran him right into the front entrance of the skyscraper they'd raced down the side of only moments before, smashing the revolving doors out of place in the process.

His breath cut off by Zoom's sudden grabbing of his neck, Flash had no time to react as the other speedster ran him straight into a tall stone column inside the building's main hall. As the column shattered into pieces from the speed and force of the impact, Flash involuntarily coughed up a mixture of saliva and blood—and then Zoom slammed him into the wall beyond the column, cracking the wall's tiling in the process. Pain suddenly wracking his body from the double-whammy, Flash slumped…but Zoom forcefully held him steady with his hand still clasped around the Scarlet Speedster's neck. "What's the matter, Flash? Did I break a few of your bones while I was rushing you through here just now?" Zoom asked derisively.

"Been there…done that," Flash grunted.

"What's that? You like broken bones?" Zoom laughed. "Then maybe you'll relish _this!"_

The next thing Flash knew, he felt seemingly endless sledgehammer-like blows to his entire midsection as Zoom's arms became a barely discernible haze…

----------

Unbeknownst to Flash or Zoom at that moment, Linda and Marla were watching the brutal bashing from the relative safety of the building's entrance, with Marla catching it all on her video-camera. "Ouch…" Linda flinched as she watched Zoom pummeling Flash.

"Yeah…that reverse-Flash is really laying it on!" Marla whispered. "I just wish those other two guys could see this!"

"Well, those two _noble-hearted_ members of our crew did say they were gonna stay with that mom and her baby, after what they've been through just now," Linda reminded her, with a wry chuckle. "Although, I don't know whether to be grateful that they're not here to see this, or to feel sorry they're missing out…"

Marla suddenly blinked and looked at the camera. "Uh—oh, nuts, the camera battery's almost run dry! I better get my spare from the van…"

"All right, fine, but hurry up—we don't want to miss too much of this!" Linda urged her.

"As if I hadn't got enough footage of this nutty character already," Marla muttered as she turned and headed off.

----------

Zoom's hands slowly rematerialized into solid form, at his sides; Flash promptly slumped to the ground, his hands crossing over his torso. The chest of his costume was now in tatters, and his now-revealed chest sported some very large and ugly bruises. Zoom himself merely flexed his fingers, tightened them into fists, then flexed them again. "Seems you're still conscious, even after all of that," he remarked. "I just hit you a little over nine thousand times in forty-five seconds…and my knuckles only feel _slightly_ tender at the end of it all. Impressed? I know I am."

Flash tried to breathe deep—he ended up choking, coughing up blood. "Argh…gonna…take more than that…to get rid of me…" he rasped.

"Oh, that can be arranged, without a doubt," and Zoom reached down and grabbed Flash by the throat, forcing him to his feet and up against the wall again. "Now, boy, here's what's going to happen…" he continued, as he held up Flash with one hand and held the other in a fist—and as that fist began to vibrate. "I'm going to take this nice, friendly fist that you see here…and send it straight through your skull. And I know for a fact that _one_ of us is going to enjoy it immensely."

Then he frowned. "However, before I do that…there's just one question I want you to answer."

In spite of the pain wracking Flash's face, he managed to level a glare at Zoom. "And…what's that…?"

Zoom's eyes narrowed. "Everybody in Central and Keystone believes that you're such a trustworthy guy. Well, Flash…if that's true…then why keep your face hidden behind this mask?"

With one abrupt movement, he lunged his vibrating hand forward, grabbed hold of the top of Flash's mask, and ripped it off—and his eyes widened in just-as-sudden astonishment. "…wha…?"

----------

From her hiding place at the doorway, Linda blinked as she saw the face underneath Flash's forcibly-removed mask. "Wally…?" she whispered, one hand slowly coming up to her mouth as she stared incredulously.

----------

Wally West, despite the blood leaking from the corner of his mouth and the deep grimace on his face, put on a small smirk. "Guess you…were expecting…somebody else, huh?"

Zoom promptly dropped the Flash mask he'd only seconds ago pulled off of Wally's head; releasing Wally himself, he staggered back a few steps. "No…why…why the heck…you…you, of all people…but you're Zolomon's friend!" he sputtered, shaking his head wildly.

Wally slumped to the ground again, wincing as his hands automatically moved to cover his battered midsection. "Hey…" He coughed a little, flinching as his body jerked with each cough. "You said it yourself…you and Hunter…aren't the same guy. So…why should _you_ care…whether it's me…or some other dumb punk…under the mask?"

The surprise slowly ebbed out of Zoom's face, replaced with a bitter scowl. "You…all this time, it was you…and he had faith in you…trusted you…talked with you like old friends…and all this time, you were betraying his confidence in you. Well, _buddy…"_

Again he reached down and grabbed Wally by the throat; again he raised his fist. "You know, you're absolutely right—why SHOULD I care who it is that's wearing the Flash's mask? No matter who it is…even if it's somebody Zolomon worked with…somebody Zolomon confided in…they'll be made to pay for the wrongs done to him regardless!" His fist began to vibrate again. "Now—you DIE!"

_WHACK!_

Zoom reeled forward as a huge piece of granite slammed into the back of his head, breaking into pieces on contact. "What the—!" he sputtered, letting go of Wally in shock. "Who…!"

Wally's eyes widened slightly at this new development. Then he looked past Zoom—and his eyes widened some more. "Oh, no…"

Standing there was Linda Park, a determined expression on her face, standing next to the broken stone column even as she tossed a piece of cement from said column up and down in her palm. "Leave him alone, you fraud—or else you'll get another taste of my softball-pitching skills!" she snapped.

Zoom scoffed at the threat—and a second later he emerged right in front of the suddenly startled Linda, grabbing the cement piece from her hand. "Well, I'm sorry, little lady, but this coach says you need to go sit back on the bench." And as if to emphasize the point, he slammed his fist into the cement piece, smashing it to bits.

Linda gulped at this display. "Uh…okay…maybe this wasn't such a good idea…"

She turned to run, but Zoom grabbed her by the shoulder and forcefully turned her to face him again. "I know who you are," he said acidly. "You're that little reporter-girl Wally had his eye on. Seems Chyre and Morillo were right—reporters _are_ more trouble than they're worth."

In an eye-blink, he zipped around Linda so that he was now behind her, in the process wrapping one arm tightly around her and pointing his other hand's index finger ten inches away from her head. "Now, girl, one wrong move on your part and I'll scramble your brains right now!" he threatened.

"No! Leave her out of this!" Wally cried, attempting to stand up—and flinching again as pain hit his whole midsection once again, causing him to collapse face-first.

"You know, I would, except for one thing—she got herself involved the second she threw that rock at me," Zoom replied coldly. "But you still have a chance to save her, Wally—because the next thing that happens to her all depends on you. And considering your pathetic little state right now, I'll be generous and give you five seconds to get her back from me. And for every second that you don't…" He waved his vibrating finger ominously. "Now. Five." And he moved the finger one inch closer to Linda's head.

Linda looked worriedly at Wally. "Wally…"

"Four." Zoom's finger moved another inch.

Again Wally tried to get up, groaning as pain tore through his midsection, but he managed to raise himself up on his hands.

"Three." Another inch closer.

Holding his midsection with one hand, Wally summoned his energy in spite of the pain and lurched forward—and Zoom pulled Linda slightly to one side, raised his foot, and delivered a swift kick to Wally's chest, knocking him back down. Then: "Two."

"Aaaaagh…!" Wally clutched his chest where Zoom had kicked him in pain, even as his face developed an anguished look.

"One." And Zoom began to push his finger dangerously closer to Linda's head…

_**CHAPTER 25 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 26 COMING UP!**_

(NOTE TO BE MADE: Just something I thought I'd point out—in Wonder Woman #214, when Zoom's fight with Wonder Woman brought them to Themyscera, he punched one of Diana's sisters 200 times in one second. Thought I'd amplify that amount in his beatdown of Flash here in this chapter. I just hope I didn't overdo it…)


	26. Chapter 26

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 26

_**Central City Shopping Plaza, 2:15 p.m.**_

"Please…" Linda whimpered in terror, even as she watched Wally writhing in pain on the ground just meters away.

Zoom's arm-lock around Linda's neck tightened. His vibrating finger was now only half an inch away from her head…

_WHAM!_

All at once Zoom found himself being pitched forward as something rammed into his shoulder from behind! "AGH!" he cried out, releasing Linda even as he fell to the ground, clutching his shoulder where he'd been hit.

Wally looked up at this new turn of events. "Hey…"

Standing at the entrance to the building was Dr. Fate, holding on to the wall with one hand for support, and breathing heavily. He looked battered and utterly disoriented, but his arm that he'd used to fire the magic spell at Zoom only seconds ago managed to remain steady. "Evil…will out!" he panted.

Freed from Zoom's death-grip, Linda ran to Wally's side. "Are you okay?" she cried.

"Oh…hey there, Linda." Wally chuckled, in spite of his agony. "Heh…funny way for us to meet up, don't you think?"

"Dummy." Linda punched him on the shoulder, causing him to flinch. "Remind me to yell at you later for deceiving me. I mean, all this time, you were…"

"A-HEM!"

Both of them glanced up at the sound of the throat-clearing—and there, in front of them, slowly standing up and holding his shoulder where his costume appeared singed from Dr. Fate's magic blast, was a very miffed Zoom. "Crud…" Wally groaned.

"Not another step, you!" Dr. Fate commanded, pointing his open palm right at Zoom's back. "Even as fast as you are, I can bind you with but a wave of my hand!"

Glancing over his shoulder, Zoom snorted. "Then I'll just have to break your hand and prevent that, now won't I?"

Before Dr. Fate could reply, Zoom vanished in a yellow blur—and reappeared right in front of the sorcerer! Instantly Zoom grabbed Fate's hand, spun around once, then twisted hard—and Dr. Fate let out a pained yell as his wrist snapped, right before Zoom pulled back a vibrating fist and sent it flying right into the face of the other man's helmet…all within the space of five seconds. The force of Zoom's punch sent Dr. Fate flying backwards and right back outside the building's entrance, landing hard on the ground.

Zoom stomped toward the building's entrance, both fists vibrating now. "I've just about had enough of your being here!" he shouted. "Why do you Justice League people insist on interfering in what's not your business? Huh?"

Outside, Dr. Fate was slowly lifting himself off the ground with his good hand, his gasps of pain clear through his helmet even as he gingerly moved his broken wrist to his side. Close by, the equally-battered Booster Gold was just now starting to get up, holding his injured shoulder with one hand even as a trail of blood leaked from the corner of his mouth. "Why…?" Booster repeated. "Because bad guys like you exist…that's why."

"Ha! So _I'm_ the bad guy here, huh?" Zoom sneered.

"Indeed," Dr. Fate said frostily. "And come what may, we will stop you so that you won't endanger any more lives."

"Bold words, magic-freak—especially considering you guys can't even protect yourselves from me!" Zoom laughed at him. "Now I'm going to make sure neither of you gets the chance to screw with me again—and then it'll be Flash's turn!" And with that, he shot forward…

----------

On a rooftop not too far away, the Question watched the ensuing fight in the shopping plaza, looking on even as Zoom sped around from Dr. Fate to Booster Gold and back again, knocking the two heroes down each time either of them attempted to attack. In one hand Question held a pair of binoculars, holding them up to where his eyes were concealed by his featureless mask; his other hand was currently at his ear. "Watchtower, come in," he spoke.

"Go ahead, Question," Mr. Terrific's voice came through over the comm.-link. "What's your report?"

"I'm near Central City's main shopping plaza at this moment," Question answered. "From my vantage point, there's been a lot of collateral damage to the city…and all of it caused by one of Flash's rogues."

"Who?" Mr. Terrific asked.

"Nobody we've fought before, that's for certain," Question replied. "But I was at least able to see who it was…our good friend, Hunter Zolomon."

"Zolomon? Central City's profiler?" Mr. Terrific asked, his voice full of interest now.

"That's right," said Question. "Somehow, he's become…a sort of reverse-Flash, if you will. Booster Gold and Dr. Fate are having a rough time holding their own against him, and I don't see Flash anywhere in sight…"

"And the police?" Mr. Terrific inquired.

"None in sight," Question answered.

"Hmmm…they must still be thinned out from that meta-human rampage in Central City this morning," Mr. Terrific reasoned, a tone of disgust creeping into his voice.

"Then we'll just have to contend with the situation as best we can," Question commented. "Meanwhile, can you bring in further help to deal with this?"

"Understood. I'm gonna try and call in any other available Leaguers that we've got," said Mr. Terrific. "Meanwhile, you guys deal with Zolomon as best you can."

"Indeed," Question returned, and now he removed his hand from his ear. "Well…now that I know for sure what we're really up against, let's see if your way of fighting will work against this fellow, eh, Vic?"

----------

"So…I guess this is what you do with your days off from the lab, huh?" Linda remarked, even as she pulled one of Wally's arms over her own shoulders so she could support him.

"Yeah, well…it's still fighting crime one way or the other," Wally chuckled.

"Maybe, but none of your enemies before now ever fought you at your own speed," Linda pointed out. "This guy—he can do everything you can, and a lot more besides!"

"So I noticed." Wally flinched slightly and held onto his bruised torso.

"Are you sure you should be moving? You need to see a doctor, from what I can tell!" Linda told him.

"Hey, I'm a pretty fast healer, you know?" Wally chuckled, flinching a little as the motion aggravated his ribs. "Besides, those guys out there won't be able to hold on against a guy like Zoom for long. I'm the only one who can keep pace with him…and if I can't beat him, who will? And I'm definitely not gonna let him put anybody else in danger like he's done so far already."

Linda sighed. "So how are you planning to beat him, then, with your body as it is? Even if you heal fast, you surely haven't healed THAT fast."

"If I can at least keep him from hitting me again, I should be fine," Wally reasoned. "He may've beat me up pretty badly, but it's not like I can't move at all."

Glancing down a little, Linda caught sight of the Flash mask that had been ripped from off of Wally's head by Zoom. "Well…in that case…" She reached down and picked up the mask, then handed it to him. "…be careful, all right?"

Wally smiled at her now, even as he took the mask from her and put it back on. "Hey, no worries," he assured her. "I'm the Fastest Man Alive, aren't I? That guy can't hold a candle to me!" And then a second later, he bolted outside in a streak of crimson, leaving a gust of wind in his wake.

----------

Zoom was now standing over Dr. Fate's body, one boot firmly planted on the sorcerer's neck, even as Dr. Fate himself groaned in pain, his costume and cape in tatters. Meanwhile, Zoom was holding Booster by the front of his costume, as Booster's head and arms hung down limply. "You idiots thought you could stand up against me? What a joke!" Zoom scowled. Then he shouted over his shoulder, "All right, Flash! I'm coming back in there for you, once I finish dealing with these two losers that you have for teammates!"

"Save yourself the trip—I'm right here!" Flash's voice shouted out from one side. Turning, Zoom saw the Scarlet Speedster, his costume badly damaged from the earlier assault but with his mask back in place, staring him down with fists clenched at his sides even as his upper body appeared hunched over slightly.

"You're such a sucker for punishment, you know that?" Zoom casually cast Booster to one side, stepped off Dr. Fate's neck, and started walking toward Flash. "Well, not to worry—I specialize in punishment where people like you are concerned."

"That's all right," Flash retorted. "Because right now, it's just you and me."

"Exactly how I prefer it," said Zoom. "Although, in a few moments, it'll be just…me."

As he spoke the last word of the sentence, Zoom swiftly raised both hands and snapped his fingers—but Flash dashed out of the sonic boom's direct path, even as the noise of the boom rocked in his eardrums. Not missing a beat, Zoom rushed toward him, rapidly punching forward with both fists over and over. In turn, Flash punched forward repeatedly with both fists as well, his knuckles connecting with Zoom's in accurate timing. Then Zoom jumped and spun his body in mid-air, kicking toward Flash's head as he did, but Flash swiftly ducked and countered with a rib-punch, which Zoom easily managed to parry in spite of still being airborne. Landing on the ground, Zoom bent down and kicked out at Flash's legs, but the other speedster hopped over his foot and flipped backwards on his hands—and then grimaced as one arm swiftly went to cover his ribs.

Seeing this, Zoom smirked. "Wuss." He then ran toward Flash, drawing a fist back for a punch to the face. Seeing the fist coming, Flash swiftly sidestepped—but as he lunged forward for a counter-punch, Zoom stomped one foot hard into the ground and jumped back, and Flash missed entirely. Then, all at once, Zoom began to run in circles on the same spot at super-speed, ripping up the gravel in the process. The wind from this act was so forceful, Flash had to shield himself with his arms lest the flying gravel hit him in the face.

Presently Zoom stopped running, smoke rising from the soles of his boots and from the now broken-up ground where he'd been running only moments earlier. He stomped his heel hard into the ground—and the broken-up gravel was instantly kicked up and toward Flash! The other speedster, seeing the gravel coming, shifted his body here and there at super-speed to avoid getting hit by the stone pellets—but a second later he felt his skull swing violently to one side as Zoom dashed forward and clubbed him in the side of the face with both hands clasped tightly together in a ball. Seeing Flash go suddenly off-balance from this attack, Zoom rapidly followed up with two jab-punches to the face, a solid gut-punch that had Flash doubling over, and a rising knee to the face that sent the Scarlet Speedster flying and landing on his back.

But hardly had Flash hit the ground than Zoom was over him again. "Now…time to ensure you don't get away from me any longer…" Zoom spoke with a menacing note in his tone. And then—he lifted one foot, then stamped down hard and repeatedly, right on Flash's kneecap!

"AAAAAAAAAAHHH!" Flash screamed out in torture as he felt his knee crunching and shifting backwards. His hands automatically shot down to his leg, gingerly holding his knee even as he continued screaming in pain.

"Well, now you won't be running around like an annoying little rat," Zoom declared huffily. "But just to make sure, I'll cripple your other leg and then we can call it even!" And he raised his foot again.

"Oddly ironic, isn't it?"

Starting, Zoom turned to the direction of the strange voice—and beheld a man approaching him, a man dressed in a blue trench-coat and fedora and, strangely enough, lacking any facial features. "Yes, indeed…oddly ironic," the newcomer continued. "You're about to destroy the very purpose of your existence…but then what? What'll be left, after you do that? I'm trying to figure it out, and I still can't make sense of it."

His eyes narrowing, Zoom lowered his foot and glared at the stranger. "You…you're that crackpot conspiracy theorist…Question, was it? What are you doing here? Did you come here to help these pathetic losers? You Justice Leaguers always seem to stick together like glue."

"I'm not here to fight you, Mr. Zolomon—with your powers that you've demonstrated here, I know I would lose easily," Question said reasonably. "As I said, I'm merely trying to figure out the answer to the question that occupies my mind at this moment. If, as you intend, you destroy the Flash, what then? Where will your purpose lie?"

"Is it really that hard to figure out? I'll just destroy all of you freaks!" Zoom snapped.

"Ah, I see," said Question. "So you plan to take on the entire Justice League?"

"Yes! And not just them—all those costumed morons and those meta-humans they're always fighting, too!" Zoom answered. "The true heroes of society deserve to have their roles given back to them!"

"And who do you mean by 'the true heroes'?" Question asked.

"Who else, you faceless freak? The doctors, the nurses, the true officers and upholders of the law!" Zoom replied. "You people have stolen that level of importance from society's civil servants—so I'm going to steal it back!"

"Well, then, a few questions further, if you will," said Question. "If I understand you correctly, first you'll get rid of Flash, then you'll get rid of the Justice League and all other costumed vigilantes, whether meta-humans or not, as well as all the costumed criminals they fight. But once you've done that—who will there be to defend the populace from the constant alien attacks, or the gigantic rampaging robots, or the forces of spiritual evil, that conventional weapons and our world's system of law cannot bind? And even if none of these ever come to threaten our planet, if you get rid of _all_ costumed super-individuals, whether meta-humans or ordinary vigilantes, won't you be the only one left? And if so, in order to truly purge Earth of 'costumed freaks,' won't the only choice you'll have left be…to kill yourself?"

Zoom's eyes widened at this last inquiry—but rage was clearly evident on his face now. "If I'm the only one left, then I'll just stop!" he snarled.

"That, I'm afraid, is not quite so simple," Question told him. "Even if, by some miracle of science or decree of fate, you lost your powers and became a normal human again, the memory of what you've done while a meta-human will still remain. And even if you somehow forget those events, everyone else around you will remember. The people of Central City will certainly remember. And how will they remember you? They will remember you, not as a champion of the common man as you purport yourself to be, but as a deranged psychopath who was willing to endanger the lives of innocents just to complete your own agenda—the very lives that you, as an officer of law enforcement, swore to represent and to preserve. In effect, trying to just stop being what you currently are—a masked man with superpowers—is like trying to just change the color of your eyes. You may wear colored contacts to mask your eyes' true color, but the eyes' true color will still be there regardless."

"Grrrr…" Zoom gritted his teeth. "You…you be quiet! I don't have to listen to this!"

"The truth hurts, doesn't it, Mr. Zolomon?" Question asked pointedly. "The truth always hurts the one who needs to hear it the most but doesn't want to acknowledge it. And bringing the truth to light happens to be my hobby."

"Enough! I'm gonna rip your head off and shut you up for good!" Zoom yelled, rushing toward Question even as he raised one fist to strike—

—but all at once he found himself rising off the ground, seemingly going over Question's head! "What the…?" he cried out, flailing his arms and legs around in an effort to right himself.

Question, briefly looking up at Zoom, now tilted his gaze back down. "Wonderful timing, Dr. Fate."

There, on the ground, Dr. Fate was gasping in obvious pain, even as he held one glowing hand up. "Yu provided the distraction I needed," he acknowledged. "But I won't be able to hold him for long…it's taking all my remaining strength just to trap him like this…"

Zoom, still suspended in midair, glared down at Dr. Fate. "Again with the parlor tricks? That does it—when I get back down, I'm really going to cream you guys!"

"CREAM THIS!"

Looking up, Zoom was just in time to see Booster, his injured arm hanging limp, flying toward him with one fist drawn back. Booster swiftly thrust his fist forward…and from his gauntlet a massive blast of energy fired, slamming into Zoom and sending him sailing right into the side of the very same building he'd sent Dr. Fate flying into earlier. Zoom's collision with that building knocked a whole slew of blocks and cement out of place, causing a relatively large cloud of dust to spout from the point of impact.

Presently Booster floated back to the ground, whereupon he collapsed face-forward. "Ugh…that took everything I had left…" he groaned, even as he shifted his arm to his damaged shoulder.

Question took in the fallen Leaguers at a glance—Booster and Dr. Fate in front of him, their respective energies spent from that last assault on Zoom, and not too far away Flash was twitching on the ground with an obviously broken leg and a very bruised body otherwise. "This is troublesome," Question sighed as he put his hand to his comm.-link. "Watchtower, this is Question reporting in. I have three League members down and in need of immediate medical attention."

"Got it," Mr. Terrific's voice came through. "I'll get the med-crews on standby. What about Zolomon?"

At that, Question turned to look toward the building where Booster's blast had just sent Zoom flying. "He just got knocked down, but there's no telling for how long he'll stay that way," he replied. "And considering he's got super-speed at his disposal, if we stay here much longer we'll have serious problems should he prove able to continue fighting."

"Any civilian casualties?" Mr. Terrific wanted to know.

"None," Question replied. "All the civilians that were here before have gotten clear."

"Okay, then," said Mr. Terrific. "I'm going to bring all of you back up here now; meanwhile, I'll keep trying to call in any other available Leaguers to deal with this. That guy's too much of a risk for us to just let him continue running loose. Prepare for transport."

"Mmm-hmm," Question acknowledged—and then he, Booster, Dr. Fate and Flash all vanished in pillars of shimmering light.

----------

Linda now emerged from the building's entrance, just in time to see the four Justice Leaguers swiftly disappearing. "Huh…there they go," she remarked aloud.

"Linda! Get over here, quick!"

Looking up, Linda caught sight of Marla, standing a good distance away from the scene of the action, with her camera on her shoulder as always. "Marla! Did you get to change the tape?" she called, running over to where Marla was.

"Yeah, I did," Marla affirmed. "And I got some serious footage of the fight that was going on out here. That yellow speedster meant business."

"I know," Linda nodded in agreement. "Well, let's get out of here before he comes back."

"For once, you're actually making sense," Marla chuckled as she turned and headed for the news-van.

"What's that mean, now?" Linda demanded, hurrying after Marla.

----------

Within the wreckage of the neighboring building…Zoom slowly picked himself up, dusting the broken block fragments off of himself and regarding the newly-acquired tears in his costume. "Those little punks…they managed to get the drop on me…" he scowled savagely. "Now they're really going to get it!"

A few seconds later, he zipped out of the hole in the building's wall, down the side of the structure, and back into the shopping plaza—and only then did he realize that, save for himself, the place was now completely empty. "Huh? Where'd those cowards run off to?" he demanded, looking around and clenching his fists.

Suddenly, in the distance, the noise of approaching sirens caught his ears. "Hmph…NOW the cops decide to show up," he grumbled. "They probably must've thought that the Flash would save the day and do their jobs for them. Although, with the attack by that crazy super-criminal from this morning, I suppose I can't blame them too much…they HAVE been weakened considerably, after all…"

His eyes narrowed. "But in the end, even that doesn't completely excuse them…they and everybody else in Central and Keystone have come to rely on Flash to do everything for them…so I'm going to have to punish them all, to show them the error of their ways! Then we'll see how long their trust in that guy can sustain them!"

And with that, he turned and blitzed off in a streak of yellow, leaving the highly-damaged shopping plaza behind him.

----------

From the corner of a tall skyscraper several meters away from the entrance to the shopping plaza, a man clad in a suit and sunglasses watched through binoculars as the stranger in the yellow Flash costume raced away from the scene of the battle with the Justice League. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a cell-phone, and speed-dialed a number. He waited a moment while the phone rang; then, on the other end: "Yes?"

"Put me through to Ms. Black, right away," the suit spoke up.

Again he waited. Then a different voice came through: "Go ahead. What do you have to report?"

"We may have a problem," the suit answered. "A man in a yellow Flash costume was just here at the shopping plaza…he beat up a bunch of the Justice League by himself and then escaped. The police are on the way here at this point."

"These Justice Leaguers…was the Flash among them?" the other speaker inquired.

"Yes, he was," the suit answered.

The other speaker chuckled. "Then there's no problem. This…Flash impersonator…has simply done a bulk of our work for us. We'll just have to monitor him, now, that's all. Remain on standby and await further instructions."

"Understood," the suit nodded.

----------

_**Blacksmith Corporation, 2:37 p.m.**_

Amunet Black hung up the phone, then smiled widely. "An unexpected turn of events, to be sure…but one that we could certainly use to our advantage," she said.

Sitting across the table from her was the Thinker, fully clad in his purple and black costume, with his white and purple helmet-mask on his head. "You'd do well to be cautious, Ms. Black," he admonished her. "You can't afford to be too complacent in the midst of your planning."

"Nor can you afford to be too over-analytical, Mr. DeVoe," Ms. Black replied.

Thinker chuckled. "Touché."

"This man…this new player who was capable of defeating Flash and the Justice League single-handedly…" Ms. Black smirked. "He's a wild card, for certain. Indeed, we'll just have to monitor him for now…if he can be swayed, he will be swayed. If not…he will just have to die."

_**CHAPTER 26 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 27 COMING UP!**_


	27. Chapter 27

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 27

_**Justice League Watchtower, 3:00 p.m.**_

Hundreds of miles above the Earth…

From the darkness of space, a huge jet-like craft emerged, approaching the Watchtower rapidly. This was, in fact, one of the Justice League's Javelin space vehicles, used extensively for interstellar travel. And on board this particular craft were three figures, all bearing triumphant looks on their faces.

"I'm very glad that that mission went so well," Dr. Light smiled, stretching her arms a little. "Now I can relax for a while."

"Unless Terrific's planning to dump another mission in your lap as soon as you get onto the Watchtower," Superman, sitting one seat in front of her and to her right, chuckled.

"C'mon, man, don't say things like that right when we just finished a mission," Green Lantern, at the Javelin's controls, protested. "I'm with Dr. Light—I'm just about ready for some R&R."

"What're your plans, then?" Superman inquired.

"I don't have anything planned right now, other than to jump right into a hot bath and just soak there for at least an hour," Dr. Light admitted.

"Well, let's call our report in, then we can all decide what we're going to do with the down-time…if we get any." Lantern then reached for the control panel and touched a button. "Watchtower, Green Lantern reporting. Our team's mission's been accomplished, and we're ready to dock right about now."

"Affirmative, G.L.," Mr. Terrific's voice replied over the Javelin's intercom system. "Hurry and report in—we've got a major problem on our hands. I'll explain when you arrive."

Dr. Light groaned. "So much for the down-time, eh?" she said.

----------

A short while later, the trio emerged from the landing bay—and standing there, waiting for them, was Mr. Terrific. "Good to see you're all back," he greeted them. "You can give me the details of the mission report later. Right now, there's something else you'll want to know about."

Superman cocked an eyebrow. "Does this have to do with what you were telling us on the Javelin a while ago?" he asked.

"Yeah." Mr. Terrific nodded gravely. "About half an hour ago, a bunch of Leaguers got thrashed in Central City by a brand-new meta-human criminal. They're all in the infirmary, stable for now, but…"

"You said Central City?" Lantern interrupted him. "What happened?"

Mr. Terrific frowned more deeply. "Let's head to the infirmary," he replied. "I'll explain while we walk."

He turned and headed off down the corridor. Frowning at this turn of events, the trio followed after him. "Terrific, who exactly got hurt down there?" Superman asked.

"Three Leaguers," Mr. Terrific replied. "Dr. Fate, Booster Gold, and the Flash."

Astonishment registered on the other three's faces as that information sunk in. "Booster was hurt?" Dr. Light asked, concern written on her face.

"And Fate, too…" Superman scowled. "Who was it? Who's responsible for this?"

"I'll get to that in a little while," Mr. Terrific answered coolly. "For right now, though, I'll show you just how bad they got beaten in that fight. That'll give you an idea of just what they had to go up against."

Lantern's expression darkened at that, but he said nothing even as the four entered an elevator to head to the infirmary.

"Mr. Terrific…you said they were in stable condition, but…should we be bracing ourselves?" Dr. Light asked, even as Mr. Terrific pushed the button for the designated floor and the elevator doors slid shut.

"That would probably be best," Mr. Terrific nodded.

A moment went by…then the elevator stopped and the doors opened, right outside the infirmary, where the medical staff was currently going in and out with clipboards and medications. Mr. Terrific led the group to one of the windows. "There they are," he announced.

Superman, Lantern and Dr. Light looked into the room. Inside, Dr. Fate and Booster Gold were on separate beds, being tended to by the medics. Dr. Fate's helmet was off and sitting right near him on his bed, even as one medic carefully bandaged his brow and another dabbed at a bruise on his cheek with a cotton swab; his hand was securely bandaged up. Booster had his shirt off, his torso bandaged up; his entire arm was set in a plaster cast from the shoulder down, and some cotton balls were held in place on his bruised face by Band-aids. Flash was nowhere in sight, as they'd been expecting.

Mr. Terrific lightly tapped on the window; getting the attention of one of the medics, he motioned to her to step outside. A moment later, the medic appeared with a clipboard in hand. "What happened here? How did they end up like this?" Dr. Light asked.

"They're in pretty rough shape; whoever or whatever they were fighting had to have been pretty brutal," the medic answered. "They're both suffering from concussions, plus Dr. Fate's wrist was snapped right in two, and Booster Gold's got a broken arm and a cracked rib. They'll recover, of course, but they'll be out of commission for a while at least."

"What about Flash? Where's he?" Lantern demanded.

"Oh…about that…" Now the medic was starting to look a little uncomfortable. "We had to rush him into emergency surgery as soon as he got up here. He had a fractured kneecap and three broken ribs, plus one of his lungs was on the verge of rupturing."

"WHAT?" Lantern exploded. "Wait a minute—what the heck was he fighting to have gotten beat up that bad?"

"Cool it, Lantern—this isn't the time or place for that," Mr. Terrific said sternly. Then to the medic he said, "How long before we'll be able to talk to them?"

"Well, Dr. Fate and Booster have been sedated for now, but we'll let you know as soon as they regain consciousness," the medic replied. "As for Flash…the surgery team's still with him right now. It could be a while before he'll be allowed any visitors."

"All right. Keep me updated," Mr. Terrific instructed her. "Come on, guys, let's go up to the main deck. Question's waiting up there, and we can discuss this in greater detail."

"Question? What's he got to do with this?" Superman wondered.

"He's got enough information on this new enemy," Mr. Terrific replied. "And against this particular character, you're going to need that info. For now, though, let's just head up there."

----------

Up on the main deck, Question was standing near the control panel, quietly observing the technicians come and go along the floor. Then suddenly, behind him, the elevator doors opened, and out came Mr. Terrific and the three other heroes. "All right, we're here now," said Lantern, impatience very evident in his tone of voice. "Now tell us who's responsible for what happened to those three!"

"Go ahead, Question, give them the info," Mr. Terrific told the faceless man.

Nodding, Question turned toward the group. "You probably know him already. It's the police profiler for Central City—Hunter Zolomon."

"What? That cop from before?" Lantern asked in utter amazement.

Dr. Light made a face at that. "Hey, we just came from the medical ward! We got the report on those guys' injuries! There's no way that that Zolomon character could've done that sort of thing!"

"Previously, perhaps not—but in his new incarnation, he was more than capable," Question replied.

"Somehow, he's gotten superpowers now—he's as fast as Flash, if not faster," Mr. Terrific explained.

"As fast as Flash?" Superman repeated.

"That's right," Question nodded. "I saw his fight against the other League members. He took all three of them down with relative ease. In addition, he was directly endangering the lives of any and all civilians that were close by at the time. Most likely he was playing on one of Flash's weaknesses right there—the people of Central City adore Flash, and he in turn has a strong rapport with them, so…"

"I see what you're saying," Lantern remarked. "But still, for him to be able to overpower Flash, let alone Fate and Booster…"

"In that case, we need to hurry up and get down there before he causes any more trouble," Dr. Light declared.

"That you do, but watch your step when you get to Central City," Mr. Terrific warned them. "Superman, G.L., you've worked with Flash longer than any of us, so you both know what his strengths and weaknesses are. You're gonna have to go down there with the assumption that Zolomon's got the same strengths and few to none of the same weaknesses. From what information Question gave me in the damage report, the guy can and will use his speed to make sonic booms strong enough to destroy a whole city block. Also, bear in mind that he's a head-case by now—he won't think twice about taking you down, and negotiating with him simply will not work."

"We'll keep that in mind," said Superman. "Question, you said you saw Zolomon when the League engaged him…what should we be looking for when we're trying to find him?"

"That's easy," and Question chuckled a little at the memory. "He's basically wearing a yellow version of Flash's costume, with red boots and red lightning bolts. He's become a reverse-Flash, if you will."

"All right—a nut-job wearing a reverse-colored copy of Flash's costume who can move at super-speed…shouldn't be too hard to spot, as long as he's not moving too fast for us to actually see him," Lantern reasoned.

"Then let's not hang around here any longer—let's go rein him in," said Superman. "Oh, and Terrific, when Dr. Fate comes around, if he's strong enough, see if he can cast a healing spell on Flash. We're going to need somebody who can match this guy's speed, and we obviously can't wait too long for Flash to recover naturally."

"I'll make sure to ask him," Mr. Terrific replied, shrugging. "Meantime, I'll also see if I can find anyone who's got equivalent speed who'll be on call, just in case."

"Okay, then—let's go!" And with that Superman flew down to the teleporter pods, Lantern and Dr. Light not far behind him.

----------

_**Blacksmith Corporation, Central City, 3:35 p.m.**_

"I see…so that's what you had planned all along, eh, Ms. Black?" The Thinker rubbed his chin thoughtfully and smirked.

"What are your thoughts, Mr. DeVoe?" Amunet Black queried, crossing her fingers underneath her chin.

"My thoughts?" Thinker replied. "Well, what can I say? You're obviously a very intelligent woman, and you know what it is you're after. And it's clear to me, also, that you put a great deal of time and effort into developing this plot of yours. My hat goes off to you for your ingenuity."

"Naturally," said Ms. Black. "I've invested many years into this enterprise of mine. I've paid close attention to how Central and Keystone Cities have been run in all that time. These cities' mayors are not fit to play any good role in my plan. And I cannot and will not risk letting any liabilities stick around to ruin all the work I've put into this."

"That is certainly good thinking," Thinker nodded. "Frankly speaking, it has been common knowledge for many years that, of all of the Rogues whom Flash has had to face, I was the smartest, most intelligent, and most competent at organizing crimes. In fact, the so-called primate genius himself, Grodd, sought me out as a planner and consultant for his little Secret Society—that's how highly-regard I've become in the criminal underworld. And yet…even with my own great intelligence and the mental augmentation of my Thinking Cap, even I could never have planned as elaborately or for as long as you have. And unlike me, and any of the other Rogues that reside here, you have your eyes on a much grander prize than merely robbing banks or fulfilling get-rich-quick schemes."

"You flatter me, Mr. DeVoe." Ms. Black smiled. "And yet at the same time, you do not give yourself enough credit. Indeed, your reputation as the brightest and cleverest of the Flash's enemies is not without merit. Otherwise, I would not have even bothered to free you from Iron Heights."

"I understand," said Thinker.

"I'm sure you do," said Ms. Black. "Having said that, I have a proposal for you, Mr. DeVoe."

Thinker leaned forward slightly. "I'm listening."

"Join me in my enterprise. Realize the fulfillment of my ambition with me. In return, anything your heart desires will be yours for the asking." Ms. Black narrowed her eyes and smiled more widely. "Of course…it's your call."

Thinker considered it for a moment. "Anything I desire, eh?"

"Anything at all," and Ms. Black nodded.

At once Thinker grinned. "Well…a little payback to the Flash for all the humiliation he's brought me comes to mind…"

"That can be arranged," Ms. Black said meaningfully.

Thinker nodded. "In that case, you can certainly count me in."

"I'm glad to hear it, Mr. DeVoe," said Ms. Black. "So, then, shall we get into the meat of the matter?"

"The specific stages of your plan? I'd be delighted, madam," Thinker answered. "Although, before we do, permit me to comment on something. This new speedster who's arrived in Central City, who was able to defeat the Flash…how will your plan revolve around him?"

"I will admit, this stranger's arrival was unexpected," Ms. Black answered. "But he has already made my strategy even easier than I'd hoped, and he doesn't even realize it yet. Now, allow me to tell you the steps of my plan, and then I will leave it to you to formulate appropriate theories that will either include this man as an ally, or deal with him as a hindrance."

"Certainly. Share your plan, then, if you will." And Thinker nodded.

----------

_**The outskirts of Central City, 3:38 p.m.**_

"All right…so what's our plan?" Dr. Light inquired.

She, Superman and Green Lantern were all a mile or so outside of Central City, having been teleported there moments earlier. "Quite straightforward, really," Superman answered, turning his gaze toward the city as he spoke. "We find Zolomon, restrain him, and then take the necessary steps to get him securely imprisoned. At the same time, we'll have to keep in mind what Terrific and Question have told us about Zolomon's new abilities."

"That guy will be lucky if all we're doing is restraining him," Lantern grunted, even as his ring shone ominously.

"G.L., I'm upset about what happened to Flash and the others, too, but we have to keep a cool head on this," Superman cautioned him. "Right now, we have to make sure we can stop this guy without anybody getting hurt."

"Easy for you to say, Superman," Dr. Light spoke up. "Zolomon hates the Justice League—that much he made clear from yesterday. Now that he's got superpowers, and Flash's powers at that, what makes you think catching him will go smoothly?"

"She's right—this guy's the next candidate for the title of Fastest Man Alive," Lantern nodded.

"We'll just have to do our best to keep up with him," Superman reiterated. "Just remember, this isn't about us getting revenge—it's about us doing what we're supposed to do: being the Justice League. Got it?"

Lantern and Dr. Light nodded. Satisfied, Superman continued, "All right. Now, let's split up and we'll all search from the sky. Anybody finds him first, contact the others before making a move. The man's unstable and unpredictable now, so we'll have to treat this with care. Now…let's go."

----------

_**Elsewhere in Central City, 3:42 p.m.**_

By this time, the gray skies above the city were finally beginning to clear away. Rays of sunshine peeked through the clouds, beaming down on the dripping-wet buildings and the thoroughly-soaked streets. The citizens who had been sitting indoors to escape the rain at all its levels, whether it had been pouring or drizzling, now came outside, taking in the newly-available sunlight. Cars drove along the street, occasionally putting pedestrians in danger of being splashed with mud puddles.

On a rooftop high above all this, Zoom looked down at the city and scowled. Numerous thoughts were passing through his mind. None of them were pleasant.

_All right…so I managed to defeat Flash…I even managed to cripple him…but so what? In the end, he still got away from me. How can I make him pay for his crimes against me if I can't keep a good grasp on him? How can I make him pay if stumbling blocks keep getting in my way?_

He cast a sweeping gaze over the city. _So many thousands of people, here in Central City…and across the bridge, thousands more in Keystone…all of them rabid lovers of that scarlet freak. And then there are his little pals in his little Justice League club…they've been getting in my way so far…but it doesn't matter. No matter how many people I have to stomp down on to destroy Flash…no matter how many of these idiots I need to sacrifice…so long as I can get that message home to all of them, every single one of them…_

Presently his gaze stopped on the city's power plant, roughly three miles from his current position. He stared at it for a long moment. Stared. Stared. Stared.

And then he grinned.

"Well, now…there's an idea," he mumbled aloud. "A way to really show the Flash and all his costumed buddies, as well as the people in this town, just who this town really belongs to…and…" He glanced down at his palms and grinned more widely. "With these abilities I've been given…it just might work…"

"_What_ just might work, buddy?"

Turning in surprise, Zoom snarled when he saw who the intruding voice belonged to. "You…that Green Lantern!"

Indeed, hovering in the air in front of him, glowing emerald-green, was the Green Lantern, a stern frown on his face. "I heard about how you beat three of our guys a little while ago," he announced as he landed on the rooftop. "And I know what you did to the Flash. And I'm here to tell you right now, you're not going to get away with it."

"Oh, so you're here for vengeance, then?" Zoom smirked a little now. "Do yourself a favor, pal. Be a good little glow-worm and fly on back up to space, or wherever it is you came from."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm actually from Earth," Lantern informed him. "And I know who you are under that mask. You might be wearing a cheap imitation of Flash's suit, but underneath you're that same cop who was dissing me and Flash at Central City Hall. Which basically means that now, you're a psycho nut."

"Correction—" Suddenly Zoom zipped forward, grabbed Lantern by the throat, and tripped the other man so as to make him fall on his back, all in the blink of an eye! "—I'm a man of justice!"

"Justice?" Lantern countered—and Zoom tightened the grip on his throat.

"That's right—justice!" Zoom declared. "Zolomon's life has been ruined one time too many by costumed morons and super-powered freaks of nature who do nothing but hound the glory that should go to the true civil servants of society! So I'm going to correct that injustice by wiping you all out one by one!"

Lantern fought to breathe, even as he grabbed Zoom's wrists in an effort to forcefully ease the other man's grip on his neck. "…you…talk too much…for a reverse-Flash…" he managed to choke out.

For answer Lantern's breathing was cut off entirely as Zoom tightened the choke-hold further. "Reverse-Flash? Sorry, but my name is Zoom! Remember it as you die!" he raged.

Lantern coughed as his neck hurt and his vision began to go blurry. Raising his ring-hand, he aimed at Zoom—but then the villain grabbed his wrist with one hand, reached forward with the other and forcefully pulled the ring off! Only just aware of this fact, nonetheless Lantern coughed and gasped as his throat was released, grateful for even a moment to breathe once more.

Not about to let Lantern get a second wind, Zoom grabbed him in a choke-hold again, this time with one hand. He then examined the emerald ring he was now holding in his other hand, holding it up just out of reach of Lantern's flailing hand as the other man attempted, simultaneously, to retrieve said ring while fighting not to get choked to death. "What do you know? Without this fancy ring of yours, you're nothing much after all…" His grip on Lantern's throat tightened again, even as his other hand closed around the ring. "So? Any last words?"

Even in the midst of his renewed gasping for air, Lantern glared at him. "Actually…yeah…I've got…a little rhyme…for you."

Zoom chuckled at that. "Oh, look, the big tough Green Lantern wants to share a nursery rhyme. Well, whatever. Do tell."

Lantern's eyes narrowed. Then he began to recite:

"In brightest day, in blackest night…no evil shall escape my sight…"

Suddenly, from Zoom's closed fist, a slight green glow emanated. He regarded it with a degree of surprise. "Huh?"

Lantern continued reciting. "Let those who worship evil's might…beware my power—"

All at once, a burst of green energy shot out from Zoom's fist, and even as he opened up his hand in astonishment, the ring flew out of his palm and right back onto Lantern's finger! Staring in bewilderment, Zoom suddenly found himself staring at Lantern's fist, the ring back in its place and glowing with immense energy even as Lantern finished the rhyme.

"_**GREEN LANTERN'S LIGHT!"**_

Eyes widening in realization, Zoom jumped up and flipped backwards—and not a moment too soon, as half a second later Lantern's ring blasted a cannon-like beam of energy that only narrowly missed him! He continued to flip backwards till he was near the edge of the roof; only then did he stop, standing upright again and glaring at Lantern. "Why, you…!"

Lantern's body was glowing green again, and his ring was shining brightly as he aimed it at Zoom. "You caught me off-guard there…I won't let it happen again," he announced coldly.

Zoom's face darkened. "Right back at you. Bring it."

_**CHAPTER 27 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 28 COMING UP!**_


	28. Chapter 28

VELOCITY

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 28

_**Central CIty, 3:45 p.m.**_

Superman soared through the sky, high above Central City, glancing left and right with a focused eye. "Hmm…no sign of anything from up here," he muttered.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something unusual—a large burst of green energy shooting skyward from a distant rooftop! "G.L….!" he whispered as he turned and flew off toward the spot.

--

Zoom ran over the edge of the rooftop and right down the vertical wall in a swift blur of movement. Mere seconds later, Green Lantern flew down after him, firing numerous bolts of energy from his power ring. "Coward!" he shouted.

"You've got a ring that can shoot laser beams, and I have only my bare hands! Who's the bigger coward?" Zoom flung at him over his shoulder.

Gritting his teeth, Lantern fired more energy beams at Zoom; however, Zoom kept dodging by a hair's breadth, and the beams sailed right past him and crashed to the pavement below, startling several civilians in the process. "Why don't you actually try aiming for a change?" Zoom taunted Lantern, even as he reached the ground and sped off down the street.

"Why that little…!" Lantern seethed.

"G.L.!"

Lantern glanced over his shoulder to see Superman flying up to him. "The guy's getting away!" he said angrily.

"I can see that," said Superman. "So let's go get him."

With that, the duo flew off, following Zoom's trail. "John, why didn't you call us? Were you actually planning to take him out by yourself?" Superman demanded.

"The guy is a menace to everybody!" Lantern argued.

Superman eyed him. "Exactly what _he's_ been saying about _us,_ isn't it?"

Lantern frowned at this, then fixed his gaze steadily ahead. "Okay, I jumped the gun. I let my emotions get the better of me."

"Well, as long as you acknowledge that…" Superman then put his fingers to his comm.-link. "Dr. Light, Superman here. Do you see any sign of Zoom from your position?"

"Affirmative, Superman," Dr. Light's voice replied over the frequency. "He just ran right underneath me—I'm going after him."

"Got it. Don't let him get away from you—we're already on his trail, so we should meet up with you in a bit." Superman then looked over at Lantern. "Just be more careful from here on out, is all."

"Right." Lantern nodded.

--

Zoom dashed along the street in a yellow blur, glancing over his shoulder and up toward the sky every few seconds. "Hmph…looks like I lost that glowworm chump," he chuckled…

…right before running into a solid wall of light. "OW!" he yelled out in pain even as he got forcefully bounced back and landed on the ground. "What the…!"

"You may as well quit—you've nowhere to go now," a female voice loudly announced—and then, from a nearby rooftop, Dr. Light floated down. "Now, why don't you surrender quietly, and all this ugly business can come to an end right now?"

"Not happening, lady," Zoom snarled as he got back up.

Dr. Light's eyes narrowed. "I was hoping you'd say something like that. Now I have enough reason to beat you into the ground."

With that she charged up light energy in her hands and fired it at Zoom—who easily sidestepped and rushed toward her with an upraised fist. However, Dr. Light swiftly flew up out of harm's way, firing more light-blasts at Zoom as she did. In turn, Zoom jumped back several steps, dodging the blasts even as they crashed down on the pavement. He then turned and ran toward a parked car, and ended up running around the vehicle so fast he was only seen as a spinning yellow blur…and then from that blur came numerous pieces of scrap, all aimed at Dr. Light, who retaliated by blasting the pieces even as they sailed right toward her.

At length Zoom stopped in place—and all that was now left of the car were its doors, fenders and wheels, as all the other parts were in pieces and scattered all over the place. "Is that all?" Dr. Light asked, unimpressed.

Before Zoom could answer, a sudden whooshing sound caught his ears; turning his head slightly, he saw Superman and Green Lantern approaching in flight. "So, the green glowworm caught up…and look what he brought with him—the world's biggest alien menace!" he sneered.

"Give yourself up, Mr. Zolomon," Superman said coolly. "Even if you do have super-speed, you're no match for the three of us."

"Oh, yeah? Well, that's probably what those other Justice League chumps were thinking earlier, and where are they now?" said Zoom.

"You're already walking a thin line, buddy," Lantern said darkly, even as his ring shone with power.

Superman floated down to the ground and started to walk towards Zoom. "Look, we don't want any more chaos brought on the people of this city than they've experienced today already," he said. "You're not thinking clearly. You're not yourself. At the very least, let us help you somehow."

For answer Zoom shot forward in an eye-blink, slamming his elbow into Superman's face with such force that the Man of Steel staggered back a few feet. "Like I'd accept anything from the likes of you!" he yelled.

Dr. Light reacted quickly, blasting a beam of light from her hands—and forming a dome around Zoom, encasing him completely. Lantern, meanwhile, floated to the ground. "You'd better shelve the Boy Scout routine—this guy's not going to listen to reason, didn't you hear that?" he said to Superman in a scolding tone.

Zoom looked around at his light-based prison and scoffed. "Is this all?" he asked.

"Well, you won't be going anywhere for a little while," Dr. Light replied.

"Think again!" Then all at once, Zoom stood up straight, arms at his sides—and began to spin at super-speed, going so fast he tore a hole right through the pavement and vanished into said hole!

"No!" Dr. Light shouted, swiftly relinquishing the light-energy she'd used to trap Zoom.

"I'll get him!" Superman immediately flew toward and into the hole…and found himself in the sewers. "All right, where are you? Don't make this any harder than it has to be!"

"Oh, I have no intention of hiding, freak," Zoom's voice replied from behind. Turning, Superman saw him standing there, arms crossed over his chest. "After all, it's not every day that a guy gets to take revenge on you for your crimes against humanity."

"What are you talking about?" Superman demanded.

Zoom's face held no humor. "Have you forgotten, Superman? You showed up in Metropolis years ago, pretending to be a benevolent savior to humanity…then, next thing everybody knew, you were attempting to conquer this planet for that Darkseid character. Then, as if that weren't bad enough, just four years ago you and your Justice League cohorts blasted that Cadmus facility in New Mexico with that satellite cannon of yours, causing a lot of collateral damage and civilian injuries, and forcing many people to become homeless."

Superman's eyes narrowed. "…you know about Cadmus…"

"I used to be an FBI agent—I made it my business to be in the know about our country's security details, and especially where people like you were concerned," Zoom explained.

"Even so, you don't know the circumstances behind those incidents you're referring to," Superman said pointedly.

"I know enough to know that charlatans like you can't be trusted," Zoom hissed. "Who's to say you won't try to enslave us all again, or shoot at another innocent populace with another space-mounted weapon? Even if I am like your kind in terms of super-powers now, I'll use my new gifts to strip away the façade you're all wearing and show you up as the frauds you really are!"

"And you think _you_ have the right to pass judgment?" Superman barked at him. "As a cop, you swore to protect the peace and uphold the law of the land, didn't you? And yet look what you've been doing—running around this city, terrorizing the very people you're supposed to be protecting, creating agony for innocent civilians, all just to satisfy your own selfish grudge against our side of the populace!"

"The people of this city side with you costumed freaks. They're just as guilty as you are. They deserve their punishment." Zoom's voice was low and ominous. "And now that their idol, the Flash, is out of the picture, they will be next. And I'll send you and your Justice League cohorts six feet under, right where you all belong."

"Then if that's your response, there's only one thing I can do." Superman lifted himself off the ground slightly—and then flew forward like a bullet, right toward Zoom.

Zoom cocked an eyebrow even as Superman closed in on him. Superman was scant inches away from making contact—

—but in that moment Zoom shot around behind the Man of Steel, grabbing his cape, and yanked hard on it with all his strength! Taken by surprise at this maneuver, Superman barely had time to register what was going on even as Zoom spun him round and round at incredible speed…and then flung him upwards, sending him smashing straight through the concrete right above their heads and back out into broad daylight. Disoriented by the spinning he'd just endured, Superman ended up soaring several feet above street level from Zoom's throw, then landed heavily on a parked car, crushing the top half of it and setting off its alarm in the process.

Lantern and Dr. Light, having been waiting expectantly this whole time, had watched in astonishment as Superman was flung out of the sewers. Now they flew to his side. "You all right, man?" Lantern asked.

Superman sat up on top of the wrecked car, holding one hand against his head to stave off the dizziness from Zoom's spinning him around moments ago. "Ungh…just need to…get my bearings back…"

"I'll stay with Superman—you go after that guy!" Dr. Light urged.

"Got it!" Lantern nodded, then turned and flew toward the hole in the ground—but as he reached it, just as suddenly he let out a grunt of pain and was flung backwards as Zoom shot up out of the hole, a yellow blur of after-images trailing behind him with how fast he was going.

"So you guys were still here? Guess that just means I have more time to grind you all into powder," Zoom commented, examining his fist. He frowned a moment—and then that fist seemed to vibrate. "Now, how best shall I use this fist…"

Gritting her teeth, Dr. Light raised her hand and blasted a beam of light energy at Zoom—but he was no longer there! At that Dr. Light's eyes widened in surprise—and half a second later she felt an iron-like arm around her neck, cutting off her breathing. "Ack…!" was all she could manage to croak out as Zoom slammed her head-first into the pavement.

Zoom stood up over Dr. Light, who was now sprawled out on the ground in a pain-riddled heap. "Gnats like you shouldn't get in the way," he snarled, raising his fist above his head…but a blast of green energy hit him in the side, sending him flying right into a nearby alley and upsetting a bunch of trashcans in the process.

Lantern stood there, his ring-hand ready and in place even as the ring itself shone with emerald light. "Even if you can run at light-speed, if you're caught off-guard you're not so hard to take down," he remarked stonily. "I've sparred with Flash in the Watchtower's training room enough times to know that."

For answer three trashcan lids came flying out of the alleyway simultaneously, right at Lantern. Without missing a beat, Lantern formed a protective shield with his ring's energy, easily deflecting the three lids—but a mere second later, right behind those lids, Zoom came charging forward, flinging his vibrating fist at the shield and connecting. The impact of the blow seemed to cause the shield to shake slightly…but then, to Lantern's utter astonishment, Zoom's fist tore right through the shield, hitting Lantern himself square in the face and knocking him down!

Zoom smirked as he bore witness to this. "Well, well, well…seems your ring really isn't all it's cracked up to be, after all, huh, glowworm?"

"Why, you…!" Lantern quickly flipped himself to his knees and readied his ring's energy again—but in an instant Zoom had one hand tightly grasping Lantern's wrist and the other gripping Lantern's neck in a choke-hold, and he force-ran Lantern into the wall of a nearby building.

"After that little stunt you pulled on the rooftop, did you really expect that I'd allow you to try the same thing a second time?" Zoom snapped. "Well, think again!" Then suddenly he released both hands' hold on Lantern—and fired machine-gun-like punches into Lantern's torso, hitting him so hard and so fast that the wall behind Lantern cracked…then broke down completely as Lantern was forced through it and into the building by the sheer power of Zoom's barrage.

From behind him Zoom heard a rush of wind—and swiftly sidestepped in time to avoid Superman's charge. "Guess they don't call you the Man of Steel for nothing—you just won't stay put," he remarked. "All right, then. In that case, I'll just have to deal with you in an entirely different way."

"Really?" Superman asked skeptically, even as he now stood in between Zoom and Lantern's fallen body.

Zoom then turned and ran off down the street. Superman swiftly came back outside through the hole in the wall and prepared to fly after him—and paused. "Huh?"

For, just a moment after having run off, Zoom was actually running back towards Superman, both hands stretched out behind him and a powerful wind following him in the wake of his run. Then, just mere inches away from the Man of Steel, he abruptly came to a dead stop in his tracks, simultaneously bringing both hands forward and slamming his palms against Superman's chest just below his neck—and as an immense sonic boom tore through the surrounding area with such force that windows within a hundred-meter radius shattered, walls cracked, and stationary vehicles got lifted off the ground, Superman himself was sent flying backwards, screaming…through two buildings…and into an oil tanker, the impact with the vehicle causing the whole thing to explode and go up in flames!

"Ow…" Zoom flinched and flashed his hands around a little. "Now I'm not really sure which of us that trick just now hurt more—me or you."

Some considerable distance away from where Zoom stood, through the holes made in the two buildings he'd been sent flying through, and from the flaming wreckage of the tanker, Superman emerged, holding his chest where Zoom had struck him even as a trail of blood leaked from one corner of his mouth. His cape was in tatters from the explosion he'd just been victim of; his overall uniform was torn here and there from the shrapnel. He took one step forward—and then fell on his face, coughing and spewing up saliva mixed with a small amount of blood. "…you…" he rasped.

Zoom was standing before Superman in an instant. "Painful just to breathe right now, isn't it? No matter how tough you are, even you can be affected by a blow to the chest if it's landed in just the right place and with the right amount of power," he said curtly.

All at once, out of nowhere, a blast of light slammed into Zoom, knocking him down and dangerously close to the flames from the burning tanker. Zoom, however, quickly rolled to his feet and away from the fire. Looking up in the direction from which the attack had come, he scowled. "You can't take a hint, can you?" he demanded.

Floating up to the general area, a trail of blood very conspicuous from her scalp right down the side of her head, Dr. Light looked at Zoom with disgust. "You're the one that doesn't seem to get it," she replied stoutly. "You're a danger to the people of this city. Since Flash isn't here to stop you right now, we'll do it for him."

"Oh, yeah? You and what army?" Zoom snapped. "Maybe your brains got scrambled when I shoved your head into the pavement just a while ago, because you obviously don't know what you're up against, woman! I just took down Superman and Green Lantern, two of the supposedly toughest members of your Justice League, and _you—_what can you possibly do to succeed where even they failed against me?"

"None of us have failed yet," Dr. Light answered—but then she faltered, one hand swiftly going to her head as she flinched in obvious pain and sank to one knee.

Seeing this, Zoom smirked. "Looks like your brains really got scrambled after all," he said snidely—and shot up to Dr. Light, grabbing her by the front of her uniform and firing a blur of punches into her face. As Dr. Light's upper body flew back from the speed and force of this assault, Zoom rapidly bent down and grabbed her ankles, spun her around once, and flung her into an unbroken section of the same wall he'd sent Superman flying through…all this in the space of five seconds. The wall broke down further, even as Dr. Light grunted from the impact and landed heavily with the debris.

Watching all this from his prostrate position on the ground, Superman stood up—but immediately collapsed back to his knees, a sudden fit of coughing taking hold of him as he put a hand to his still-afflicted chest where Zoom had struck him. "…argh…" A grimace crossed his face even as he groaned.

A blur of yellow swooshed in front of him—then Zoom grabbed him by the hair with one hand, forcing him to sit upright. "Stop this…" Superman managed to growl, despite the pain that doing so caused him.

"I don't take orders from you," Zoom replied nastily. "You're the leader of the Justice League…it's only fitting that I should kill you first. Your head is mine!"

He raised his vibrating fist, ready to strike—but all at once a beam of green energy wrapped itself around his torso, yanking him away from Superman. "What the…!" Zoom exploded.

Standing there was Green Lantern, one arm wrapped around his ribs even as his ring's energy held Zoom steadfast. "I think…you'll find…killing Superman isn't the easiest job in the world, especially for a guy like you," he glowered.

Zoom gave him a stony look—then suddenly his whole body vibrated, and inexplicably he seemed to phase out of Lantern's energy trap! The next thing a surprised Lantern knew, Zoom was streaking toward him, then jumped and went into a flying kick that connected with the other man's face, and the attack was so fast and forceful that Lantern was sent flying several meters back before landing on the ground again. But Zoom wasn't done—he streaked forward again, then jumped into the air when he was almost upon Lantern, and raised his knees to his chest as he prepared to stomp downward. "STOP MEDDLING!" he screamed.

But Zoom wasn't prepared for the abrupt battering ram-like force he felt hitting him in the back as Superman flew forward, barreling into him shoulder-first and sending him flying. As Superman once again gasped and winced from the pressure his most recent exertion had placed on his injured chest, Zoom tumbled head-over-heels for several hundred feet, eventually skidding to a stop on his side. "Ugh…I _hate_ that guy…" he muttered darkly.

By this time Dr. Light was getting back up, one eye closed due to her pained grimace even as she held one limp arm with her other hand. Seeing Superman and Lantern, she floated over to them. "Are you two all right?" she asked.

Superman shook his head, tapping the top of his chest for emphasis. "Hurts…"

Dr. Light glanced up in Zoom's direction, watching as he gingerly began to get back up. "That man…there is only one of him, but yet he's handing our butts to us. Can somebody tell me what's wrong with this picture?"

Lantern slowly sat up, even as his torso and face began to ache. "I'll tell you what's wrong with this picture—two things," he replied. "He's as fast as Flash, but he's also way more vicious. Plus, we've been fighting him as if he _is_ Flash, but their methods of fighting are too different even though their powers are exactly the same."

Now Dr. Light frowned. "Can either of you continue fighting at this point? My head feels like a coconut that just got bashed open, and my arm feels broken," and she indicated her limp arm.

Again Superman shook his head. "…hurts just to breathe right now…" He flinched as he spoke. "That attack he used on me…must've hit my windpipe hard…" Here he broke into a painful cough.

"And I'm thinking he busted a rib or two," Lantern said grimly, cradling his side. "But something tells me he's not in much better shape…"

Indeed, as Zoom stood up completely, it was easy to see that one of his arms was badly scraped from his tumble when Superman had flown into him, to the point that the costume itself was torn and his arm was bleeding. In addition, the force of the tumble had torn his costume in several other places and broken off one of the lightning ornaments on the side of his mask, and though the Leaguers couldn't see it from the distance between themselves and him, he was sporting bruises. Now he winced as he gingerly touched his scraped-up arm with his free hand. "Hmph…I was careless," he grunted. "No matter—these bruises I've got will heal up soon enough. Anyway, I've got other things to do for the moment, so I'll catch you chumps later. And tell that coward Flash to come on back to Central City—I'll be waiting for him."

With that said, Zoom turned and shot off up the street, leaving a yellow blur in his wake. "Get back here!" Lantern yelled after him, then flinched and put his hand to his ribs again.

"Don't bother…not worth it now…" Superman coughed again.

Dr. Light put a finger to her comm.-link. "Watchtower, this is Dr. Light. Three for emergency pickup."

"What happened down there?" Mr. Terrific's voice answered her. "Where's Zolomon?"

"Got away from us," Dr. Light replied. "And what you told us about him is right on the money—he's really gone off his rocker. There's a lot of property damage, but it doesn't look like there are any civilian casualties here. Can't say the same for ourselves, though."

"Green Lantern here," Lantern spoke up, his hand on his own comm.-link. "About that guy…he calls himself Zoom now. And I can't be sure, but I think he's up to something…and it's got to do with this city."

"This is getting too out of hand now," Mr. Terrific said distastefully. "As long as he's still running around, it'll only be a matter of time before somebody down there gets hurt…and if what you're telling me is true, G.L., it'll happen pretty soon."

"What should we do, then?" Dr. Light asked.

"For now, we can't do much else until we know exactly what Zolomon is up to," said Mr. Terrific. "I'll get the medics on standby for you…meantime, I'm gonna port you up."

"Yeah, got it," Lantern answered—and then the three of them vanished in pillars of light.

--

At this point, elsewhere on the other side of Central City, Zoom stood in an alleyway, surveying his damaged costume. "This sucks…I'll have to get a little tailoring done before I can do anything else," he grumbled. "Oh, well, that won't take a lot of time to do. More importantly, though…"

He glanced across the street from where he now stood. On the sidewalk, a few civilians were walking right past his hiding place without seeing him; but Zoom's focus was on the building on the other side of the street. Surrounded by a fifteen-foot-high chain-link fence, and bearing numerous glaring signs warning unauthorized persons to keep out, the building in question was a tall metallic construct, with electric wires strung all around its top and huge tower-like structures off to one side, with massive generators accompanying them and all of that section further closed off by another fence.

"Central City's power plant…" Zoom smirked.

--

_**CHAPTER 28 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 29 COMING UP!**_

(NOTE TO BE MADE: Since I don't know of any actual times within the comics where Superman would have had to fight directly against any version of the Reverse-Flash, the way I structured his fight with Zoom in this chapter was based highly on my own conjecture of how such a fight might've happened, and how Zoom might've held his own against the Man of Steel. On the other hand, Green Lantern's part in the fight with Zoom is partially based on some of the fight sequences during the "Return of Barry Allen" arc in the comics, specifically Flash #79.)


	29. Chapter 29

VELOCITY

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 29

_**Justice League Watchtower, 4:20 p.m.**_

"Ow…ow…"

"Just stay still, Dr. Light," the medic advised. "You'll be all right."

Dr. Light was currently sitting up on a bed in the Watchtower's infirmary, her arm in a sling, even as the medic carefully wrapped a thick bandage around her head. "I can't believe I could've let that guy get the drop on me," she lamented.

Nearby, Superman was shirtless and having his chest examined with a stethoscope by another medic. "Take a deep breath, Superman," this medic instructed. "Yeah, there you go…hmm, you said you took a blow to the chest?"

"Yeah," Superman replied, and then cleared his throat. "That Zoom…he shoved me in the chest at super-speed."

"Well, if you were a normal person your windpipe would've definitely been crushed by an attack like that," the medic observed. "I didn't hear any irregularity with the stethoscope just now, but how do _you_ feel? Does it still hurt to breathe now?"

Superman inhaled again. "Still feels a little sore…but I can handle it," he replied.

Not far away, Green Lantern was also shirtless and propped up on another bed, his torso and neck bandaged up. "Considering it was you he pulled that stunt on, I'm still surprised he didn't break his hands doing it…makes you wonder just how he could've pulled it off," he said to Superman. "Although, you think you could give me some of that invulnerability and quick healing that you've got? My ribs need some healing, too, you know." He chuckled as he said this.

"And save some for my arm and my head, too," Dr. Light spoke up.

"If only I could," Superman chuckled as well. "Oh…speaking of healing…" He turned his head toward the far end of the infirmary, where Dr. Fate and Booster Gold were still lying on their beds, unmoving. "Those guys…they're still out of it…"

"And I guess they're not done with Flash, yet, either," Lantern added, the grim look from earlier returning to his face.

Just then, the infirmary doors slid open—and another medic walked in, pushing a wheelchair ahead of him. In that wheelchair sat Flash, a cast on one leg and bandages wrapped around his otherwise exposed torso. "Hey, guys," he greeted them. "Miss me?"

"Flash!" Dr. Light exclaimed.

"Well, look who decided to join us in here," Lantern said wryly. He eyed Flash's leg-cast. "So…not gonna be running up and down anytime soon, huh?"

"Nope…" Flash looked a little dejected at this. "They just told me everything. Three broken ribs…a cracked kneecap…and a lung that was close to being punctured thanks to one of my ribs breaking inwards…my speed lets me heal pretty fast, but even with that, with how badly I got bashed around, it'll take at least two days before I can even start recovering fully."

"Two days?" Dr. Light scowled. "That's not good…that guy, Zoom, is still running loose. Even the three of us together couldn't do anything to stop him."

"We tried everything, but he kept getting the upper hand over us," Lantern added. "That guy's a complete psycho now, and the longer he stays on the loose, the worse the situation is going to get. If he didn't have speed like yours, we could've dealt with him good and proper, but…"

"Hey, wait—what about Superman? He's got super-speed, too!" Flash protested.

"But that didn't make one bit of difference," Superman answered. "Flash, there's a reason you've been known as 'The Fastest Man Alive' up to now. Out of everybody in the Justice League who has some degree of super-speed, you're the only one whose speed is practically unmatched. Not only can you run at light-speed, you can think and react at light-speed also. But Zoom can do all that too, only he isn't held back by the restriction of never taking a life. If I had to guess, I'd say that that lack of reserve is what's letting him be so fast…even fast enough to beat _you."_

"So? Then I'll just have to be faster than _him,"_ Flash countered.

"You make it sound so simple, but it really isn't, is it?" asked Lantern. "That guy threw away all sense of morality…compared to you, he's not afraid to use his speed to hurt innocent people. If you're going to be faster than him…if you're going to be able to stop him…then you're probably going to have to be willing to kill him. Are you prepared to do that?"

Flash frowned. "Huh…I don't know…I mean, I've never killed anybody before…and besides that, underneath that mask, he…"

"He is no longer the Hunter Zolomon you were acquainted with, Flash. Get it through your head from right now."

All of them glanced up at the sound of the voice—and standing there in the doorway was Mr. Terrific. "How long were you there, dude?" Flash asked incredulously.

"Long enough." Mr. Terrific's tone was devoid of humor. "In any case, Flash…I have the information here that you had asked for, as well as info on that individual Question was telling you about." He reached into his coat and pulled out a file-jacket. "This is the copy he gave to me. Take your time going through it…it's not like you'll be going anywhere for now, anyway."

"So, wait—where's Question, anyway?" Flash asked as he accepted the file-jacket.

"He went back down to Central City to keep tabs on the situation and further assess whatever damage is down there," Mr. Terrific replied. "You won't have to worry about him—he's not so reckless as to knowingly take on an enemy he's got no chance against."

"Let's hope so," said Superman. "So, Flash, what's in the folder?"

"Hmm…" Flash opened the file-jacket.

--

_**Blacksmith Corporation, 4:25 p.m.**_

The door to Amunet Black's private room opened, and she stepped inside. Slipping off her suit-jacket, she casually tossed it onto a nearby coat rack, then reached down and slipped her shoes off, one after the other…

…and then she paused and looked hard toward one of the corners. "How long have you been in my room, stranger?"

Over in that corner, the Question was seated on a chair, right leg propped up on his left knee, arms crossed over his chest. "Quite a while," he replied calmly. "I dare say, Ms. Black, you've got it made. To have your home stationed in the same building as your business-place…you never have to commute, the way everyone else does."

"Thank you," said Ms. Black. "I've heard of you…the faceless crackpot of the Justice League. But do tell, how did you manage to get up here, anyway? This whole building is teeming with the finest-trained security guards, as well as an electronic detection system that's never failed."

Question chuckled at that under his featureless mask. "If an ordinary man such as myself could get into your private quarters without being seen or caught, your security's probably not as good as you make it sound."

"Hmm…perhaps." Ms. Black walked over to a small dining table, on which rested a decanter of red wine and two upturned glasses. "Would you care for a drink, since you're a guest…however uninvited you may be?" she asked, picking up one of the glasses and opening the decanter.

"I'll pass. I don't want anyone claiming that I was under the influence while making the claims I'm about to make," said Question.

"And what sort of claims would those be?" Ms. Black asked, now in the process of filling her glass from the decanter.

Question leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on top of his upraised leg, intertwining the fingers of both hands together and under his chin. "Amunet Black. Age: 33. Height: 6'1''. Weight: 198 pounds. Parents: names and status unknown. Citizenship: American. Education: graduated summa cum laude from the New York State University with a Bachelor of Science in Business Administration, specializing in Business Law, at the age of 20. Afterwards, attended Oxford University in England, earning a Master of Mathematics and Philosophy degree and a Bachelor of Science degree in succession. Later, established Blacksmith Corporation in Keystone City, specializing in providing business strategy advice to low- and middle-tier companies and development of technology for bioengineering; the company has been in business for the past five years, with its only competition being Lexcorp and Wayne Enterprises, but nonetheless it makes in excess of four billion dollars per quarter."

Ms. Black smiled and took a sip of her wine. "So it seems you've done quite a lot of research. I applaud your efforts."

"I'm not done, madam," said Question. "All that I've said just now is the legitimate side of your life. However, now we come to the flip side." He twiddled his thumbs even as his other fingers remained intertwined. "The facts are as follows: Blacksmith Corporation's work is merely a front for your true occupation, that of an arms dealer. But not just any arms dealer, no—you specialize in super-powered weaponry, the kind that's powerful enough to subdue even a member of the Justice League. From bio-engineered chemicals to mechanical armament, as long as you can create and market it, and as long as the clients can meet your price, you will sell it to them."

He nodded meaningfully. "Four years ago, a certain government organization began development of a weapons project through STAR Labs' Japanese branch…however, some time after the project had begun, it was suddenly stopped. By that time, they'd gotten to the testing stages…and their tests were remarkably successful, and would have garnered even more success had they been allowed to continue further into their research. The result of that research was blacklisted by the Japanese government; anyone caught trying to export it would face criminal charges. However…"

Ms. Black lifted an eyebrow.

"…that research result has been steadily smuggled out of Japan, and onto U.S. shores," Question resumed. "What is that substance? It's called Lubrilon…a chemical polymer that, when applied to a solid surface, makes it virtually frictionless, impossible to grasp. Applied to certain types of weaponry, specifically body armor, it would increase the chances of success in close-range combat by 70 percent, at the least. But even though Japan outlawed international distribution of Lubrilon, nonetheless it has found its way into our local black market. How could that be possible? That was the question I asked myself. And the answer I found…although it would shock the average man, it did not surprise me in the least. In fact, the answer I found was the kind of answer I had been expecting to find."

He uncrossed his arms and began to tap the middle of his palm with his other hand's fingertips as he continued to speak. "There were three people involved in all of this. The first was Professor Emil Hamilton, director of STAR Labs, who spearheaded the research that brought about the creation of Lubrilon in the first place. The second was General Wade Eiling, of the U.S. Air Force, who had placed the order for Lubrilon's creation on behalf of that government organization I spoke of a while ago. And then there was the third person…you, Ms. Black."

Ms. Black took another sip of her wine, keeping her eyes on Question all the while.

"Project Cadmus…the shadow cabinet that was created to counteract the Justice League should it ever go rogue," Question went on. "Hamilton served on their main council as their genetics expert, and Eiling was their military tactician. So where does that place you? Well, Cadmus had much financial backing and the support of the government…but it also had a great number of weapons and other accessories that even the government would not have approved of. Cadmus was determined to achieve its objectives by any means necessary, even if it constituted bending or breaking the law. And that was where you came in…your company served as the back door through which Cadmus could acquire whatever it could not obtain legally in its opposition against the Justice League."

As he continued talking, Question slowly stood up from the chair. "Using Hamilton's name and influence in STAR Labs and Eiling's power as a military representative, combined with your own underworld authority, you could quietly ship any amount of Lubrilon you wanted out of Japan to anywhere in the world you pleased. And since only a small amount of Lubrilon was actually made by STAR Labs, its cost would be that much higher. You'd be able to sell it to anyone who could be persuaded with the idea of having a chemical polymer of such wondrous potential as Lubrilon possesses, so long as they could meet your asking price. That's how Lubrilon ended up on America's black market—you put it there."

At this point Ms. Black set her wine glass back down on the table, and applauded. "That was quite a creative story, my good man," she remarked. "Military and scientific influence being used to smuggle something like that from one country to another, while using the mask of benevolence to conceal the fact…it's the stuff spy thrillers are made of. You ought to be a novelist, you know—your imagination would sell very well among fans of fiction."

"Hold your applause—my story's not finished yet," Question told her.

"No?" Ms. Black seemed surprised.

"In fact, this is where it gets most interesting," said Question. "I did some further digging, because I had a few other questions that still needed answering. For instance, when you founded Blacksmith Corporation, you could have selected any major city in this country, or even in the world—so why did you choose Keystone City? Was there a particular reason for that choice? And then I thought about it some more…the super-criminals that the Flash has had to fight over the years within the Central-Keystone area…every time they've re-emerged to challenge the Scarlet Speedster, their various gadgets have steadily improved, making most of them more difficult to defeat over time. Sure, Flash has always been able to best them…but why have their weapons and skills improved so much, even for their experience? And that was when I reached a conclusion…"

"And what conclusion was that?" asked Ms. Black.

"After I learned that the Thinker had coated his weapon from yesterday, the Think Tank, with Lubrilon, it all became clearer to me," said Question. "You're an arms dealer, but supplying ordinary criminals and warmongers could never be enough. So…you've decided to take it a step further, and supply costumed criminals and meta-human villains with whatever weapons or other devices they need to pull off their capers. And the most readily available market in that regard would be among the enemies of the Flash, since they have been defeated by him so many times and so much more easily than the foes of any other well-established superhero. Perhaps the payment they give you for your services isn't much, but you do provide a constant supply for them…and your ill-gotten funds from offshore weapons dealing, plus the money you make doing legitimate work using Blacksmith Corporation's public face, is more than enough to sustain you for as long as you need."

"Hmm." Ms. Black stepped toward Question, stopping only two feet away from him. "All right. Let's say, for the sake of argument now, that everything you've just said about me is true. Here's my question: I have a successful company that makes billions of dollars every year as it is. Why would I supply weapons to anyone, or smuggle such a contraband government project anywhere?"

"Reasonable question, for which I have a simple answer," said Question. "The human intellect can be marred by desire. Desire in itself is not evil, but—desire for _what?_ Children, being immature, desire more toys, more time to stay up past their bedtime, more friends for themselves, more cookies from the cookie jar. Adults, on the other hand, can desire far more sinister goals…more money…more power…more control over others. That's your motivation—desire for more. In spite of their genius with their various abilities, the great majority of the Flash's enemies stick to small-time crimes such as robbery, which makes them appear tame in comparison to other super-criminals. But you're no small-time crook…and you won't settle for using your power and influence to steal a few wads of cash or a few jewels at a time. No…why settle for such trivial things that can easily be spent at a moment's notice…when you can have ultimate power at your disposal? And you've got more than just your money to help with that."

"Really, now?" Ms. Black queried.

Question nodded his head once. "When I entered this building, I took a little time and did some exploring. After all, within this building you must have a few secrets cached away…and every secret has a hiding place. So, I explored…and what did I find? Of course—a team of your employees working on suits of armor, not unlike the one used by that muscleman you hired to cause havoc in this town earlier this morning. I saw your videotape of that incident; I saw your secret transaction with overseas buyers to purchase these suits of armor from you—just one glimpse through your electronic database and I saw it all. As well-hidden as the evidence was, you should've taken further steps to ensure that it wouldn't be found—by, perhaps, not having kept the evidence around in the first place."

For the first time, Ms. Black's eyes narrowed.

"Your face has tensed…even if a person can lie with their mouth, some other part of their body will eventually give them away," Question said in a low voice. "Bury the truth as much as you want…but it will be ferreted out."

Slowly, Ms. Black turned away from Question and walked over to the nearby wall, on which there hung a painting; reaching up, she adjusted the position of the frame slightly. "What _is_ truth? As far as I believe, one's perception of truth can easily be changed depending on the situation. So, your claims against me just now, they may in fact be truth…but they will only be _your_ truth. For anyone else, their truth is that I am simply a businesswoman with the interests of the populace in mind. Their truth where I am concerned will not include me being an arms dealer, or a supplier of weapons to super-criminals, or anything so underhanded. Wouldn't you agree?"

"When the truth is right in front of your eyes, it's hard to explain it away," said Question.

"Hard, perhaps, but not impossible if you know what to obscure and what to showcase," Ms. Black countered, walking away from the painting and toward the nearby window that overlooked the city.

"And how do you intend to obscure what I've discovered? Will you purge all knowledge of that from existence…and attempt to kill me to further ensure silence on the matter?" the faceless man asked.

"That would be the easy thing to do…but…" Ms. Black shrugged. "Considering who you are, it's highly likely you may have somehow already made copies of your findings, including the ones you've made here in my headquarters, and may have made some arrangement for their distribution to the proper authorities. If I kill you, that may well be the intended trigger for my own downfall."

"Perhaps." Question shrugged, too. "The question then becomes…are you willing to take that gamble? For all you know, I could be bluffing. I _have_ been inside this building only a little while, after all."

"And for all I know, it may not be a bluff." Ms. Black looked over her shoulder at him and chuckled. "I didn't come all this way by following the first option that came before my eyes. I take all things into account...and if there are any unforeseen variables that show themselves, I find a way to work with them as part of my plans."

"And what _are_ your plans, Ms. Black?" asked Question. "I already know this much of what you've been doing…how much worse could it get if I know the full story?"

Ms. Black chuckled a little. "Indeed…how much worse?" She turned fully, looking straight at Question. "All right…since you've seen so much already, it won't make much of a difference."

Question watched her carefully.

Ms. Black turned back toward the window and looked out at the city again. "This area…under its current administration, it's not all that strong. What Central and Keystone Cities need is true leadership…leadership born of power, of wealth, of influence. And only I can provide the kind of leadership these people need. Of course, gaining control would be a big problem if the super-criminals who prowl these streets are allowed to roam about as they please…or if the Flash should be around to pose a potential threat to me…to speak nothing of the trouble I would be in with the general public in these two cities if they were to learn of my…extracurricular activities."

"How do you intend to remedy all of that, then?" Question queried.

"Yes…the details of that plan…" Ms. Black headed to the other side of the room and sat on the edge of her bed, slowly rubbing her hand over the edge of the bedpost and crossing one leg over the other. Question, however, remained unmoved by this gesture even as the woman continued talking.

"My plan works in stages, you see," Ms. Black went on. "The first stage: secure a power base for myself within these twin cities, which I was able to accomplish with my company here," and she gestured with a wave of her arm, "and my underground market. The second stage: gain the people's trust, which I have done to a great degree using my company's power and wealth. The third stage: weaken the security forces in this area, which I was able to accomplish by having my hired man, Razer, severely weaken the ranks of the city's police force with his attack earlier today. The fourth stage: secure the cooperation of the one most intelligent member of the Flash's enemies who was within my reach, the Thinker. The fifth stage: ensure that the city's protector, the Flash, is put out of the way…which was done not by me or any of my subordinates, but by that yellow-clad speedster who's shown up out of nowhere; an unexpected variable, but certainly not an unwelcome one, if I dare say so myself."

"Mmm-hmm," said Question. "Are there any other stages in your plan?"

"Why, of course," said Ms. Black. "Two stages still remain in my plan. The first…via the Thinker and his Thinking Cap, I will control the minds of those simpletons over at Iron Heights Penitentiary, so that they will release from their cells every super-villain that has ever plagued Central and Keystone Cities. Then, by having Thinker place a hypnotic suggestion into the minds of those released criminals, I will have them run amok throughout the city streets, creating panic and chaos at selected points on both cities' maps. That is when the final stage of my plan will come into being."

"And that is…?" Question paused.

"Fear is a great motivator. So is chaos. So is desperation. The people will be so terrified, seeing their city being so brutally ravaged, their police force down for the count, and their Scarlet Speedster out of commission, that they will become willing to do anything, look to anyone, to save them from their misery." Ms. Black nodded meaningfully. "At the moment when things seem at their worst, my most well-trained employees will step into the picture, armed with those special armors that you saw my scientists working on, and they will quell the anarchy. And since the mayors of Central and Keystone Cities and anyone else close enough to inherit the position from them will be made into…unfortunate casualties of the super-criminals…it will be a simple matter for me to step up to the plate and assume leadership of the entire area."

"Sounds quite complicated," Question remarked. "But allow me a few questions further. How do you know that that speedster who took out the Flash won't screw up your plans? How do you know that the Thinker will not betray you? And…how do you even know that I won't just try to stop you myself, right here and now, before you can progress any further?" And as he said this, he reached up with one hand and loosened his tie a little.

"Reasonable questions…for which I have simple answers," said Ms. Black. "That other speedster…I will integrate him into my plans, and if he cannot be integrated, he will simply be disposed of. The Thinker…he and I have an understanding, let me say, as to what we want out of all this. I want control over this whole area…he wants the complete and utter destruction of the Flash by his own two hands. And as for you…what makes you think that I would just sit back and allow the likes of you to kill me in my own bedroom?"

"If you intend to fight me, then come," Question said coolly. "Otherwise, just stay right there…" He took a step forward.

"Oh, I'm quite capable of fighting if it comes down to it—but why should I waste effort doing that…" A glint appeared in Ms. Black's eyes. "…when there are easier ways of subduing an enemy…?"

_CRASH! _The door to the bedroom slammed open. As Question turned by reflex, he was met by the sight of numerous suited guards pouring in with guns drawn and pointed straight at him. "Wha…!" he began.

"Heh." Ms. Black calmly stood up and walked out of the guards' line of sight. "You thought you'd evaded my security system completely, did you? Well…just to let you know…" She pointed at the bedpost. "When I sat there a moment ago and touched that part of the bedpost…I touched a hidden switch that alerted the guards to come straight up to this room." She smirked. "Like I told you, I take all things into account."

"It would certainly seem that you do," Question remarked.

"You were quite a good source of conversation…a shame I'll have to get rid of you shortly," Ms. Black continued. "But then again, didn't you think it the least bit suspicious that I would so freely tell you my plans?"

"To be honest, the thought HAD crossed my mind," Question admitted. "But then I asked myself, why not take the gamble?"

"You must not value your life so much, do you?" Ms. Black asked.

Question shrugged. "I've experienced worse. A bunch of goons with guns…mild by comparison."

"Nonetheless, the situation isn't very favorable for you," said Ms. Black. "You broke into my building, entered my private room; I alerted my security personnel, you resisted, and they shot you down. Self-defense, defense of life and property. Everyone will eat it up…and since you're a member of the Justice League, even by association with you, their good name will be tarnished, no matter how little."

"And yet you said moments ago that you wouldn't risk killing me, in case my death might be the trigger for your downfall," Question reminded her. "Are you going to take that gamble, after all, then?"

"Well, evidence _does_ have a way of…being glossed over, shall we say?" said Ms. Black. "And considering that it's coming from you, the general populace won't think much of it." She leered at him. "Perhaps you should've thought this whole thing out a bit more thoroughly, hmm?"

"Hmm." Question slowly raised a hand and touched the brim of his fedora. "Madam…_that_ is the right question."

Suddenly, before Ms. Black or the guards could react, Question darted for the window! "What the—stop him!" Ms. Black shouted. In response, some of the guards opened fire, even as Question burst through the window with a crash…and looked down at the ground several stories below…

--

_**CHAPTER 29 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 30 COMING UP!**_

(NOTE TO BE MADE: For a while I was wondering whether to have Amunet Black reveal her ability that she has in the comics, the ability to merge flesh with metal and transform her own skin into ebony metal…but then I decided against it, as it would then be too much like the confrontation between Question and Lex Luthor in the "Question Authority" episode of JLU. Also, I've been suffering from some serious writer's block this week, perhaps due to the fact that I'll be going home soon and won't have Internet access for a while when I get back there…so everyone, don't be too surprised if I don't update this or my other in-progress stories for a while. No worries, though; I'll still continue to update whenever I can, so I ask that all of you just be patient with me. Anyway, please review this chapter soon, and to the fullest!)


	30. Chapter 30

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

Chapter 30

_**Blacksmith Corporation, 4:35 p.m.**_

As the glass from the shattered window flew all around his person, Question was only barely aware that behind him, in the room he'd just forcefully exited, Amunet Black's guards were shooting at him. Indeed, his bigger concern at this very moment was the fact that he was currently twenty-five stories above the ground, having just busted through the window of Ms. Black's private room on the top floor to avoid getting shot up. And in his mind was the clear knowledge that if he didn't act quickly, soon he'd be nothing more than a stain on the pavement below, and then whether he might've been shot or not wouldn't matter.

Swiftly glancing to his left and then to his right, he appraised his situation some more. He'd taken time to study the layout of the building's outer design, as well as the inner design, before he'd sneaked in earlier, but even with that knowledge it would be extremely tricky to maneuver himself out of his predicament in one piece. It would require pinpoint precision, and every second would be precious…

Explosions above his head grabbed his attention. Glancing up, he saw that some of the guards had rushed to the window and were now shooting down at him. Still, he knew they'd need to be beyond-average marksmen in order to clip him with any of their bullets when he was falling at his current pace, and so far the bullets were whizzing past him, though only by scant margins. _Hmm…death by bullets in midair, or by a hard introduction to Mother Earth at the end of this fall…how perplexing…_

And then he sprung into action, after having fallen a story and a half down the building.

Question was falling quite close to the building's side…and from what he remembered, its outer design had two-foot-long square concrete slabs that jutted out a foot and a half, built near the corners of the wall and running down the building's length to just below the second floor…and in between each slab of concrete there was a two-foot long and one-foot-deep gap of space. Now he was two stories…four stories…six stories into his descent and swiftly picking up speed…he had to act NOW.

Pulling off his coat, he held the ends in hand and made a lunge for the available gaps between the slabs. A moment later he felt his downward plunge arrested quite suddenly as his coat hooked a slab…and soon he was hanging there, holding on tightly to the ends of his coat while it was hanging on to the wedge sticking out of the wall, with the ground menacingly lurking nineteen stories below. And only then did he bother to notice that his fedora was no longer on his head, but rather it was fluttering a little ways above him, on a slow descent to the ground.

"Ungh…" Question felt a slight ache in his shoulders and wrists, having to hold on in this kind of fashion, but he dared not relax his hold on the coat. He turned his head a little and looked down. It wasn't quite as high here as it had been in Ms. Black's room above him, though it _was _still a considerable distance to the ground. For a moment he contemplated just falling the rest of the way from here…if he could land feet-first instead of on his head, then maybe he could stand a chance…the worst thing that could happen was that he'd suffer broken legs, a ruptured spine, or maybe he'd just end up dead anyway…

Shaking his head, he glanced around for any alternatives that would at least let him leave this scenario unscathed…and then his eyes, still hidden behind his featureless mask, spied something on his left. "How convenient," he mumbled.

Right there on his left there was a wide-open window. _All right…how best to do this…_

Again Question assessed his situation. Most immediately below the block from which he was currently hanging by his coat was a two-foot-long gap, according to the building's outer layout. That meant that, if he could just hook his feet into that gap and inch his way to the left, he could take a chance and jump for the window. The worst that could happen was that he'd miss and fall the remaining nineteen stories and become a chalk outline on the sidewalk.

Gingerly easing himself upward, he felt for a place to latch on inside the gap with his feet. A moment later his effort was rewarded, as he found the bottoms of his shoes holding firmly on top of the next slab below, though this forced him to assume a slightly hunched-forward position, with his legs bent at the knees. Releasing his hold on the ends of the coat, he swiftly wrapped his arms around the block that the coat had suspended him from, and held on for dear life. Then, ever so slowly, he inched his way to the left. A bead of sweat tricked down his face underneath his mask, but even this he would not allow to distract him now. After all, the slightest slip here would mean death.

Further and further he inched to the left, until he felt certain that the open window was close enough for him to jump to. Bracing his legs as best he could in his semi-cramped pose, he took a deep breath—and leaped.

_Kids, do not try this at home…_

His outstretched fingers caught a slight hold on the windowsill. At once he scrambled upward with his hands as best as he could manage, holding on for all he was worth. Breathing rapidly from his exertion, he presently began to pull himself upward with his arms…dragging himself through the window…and then he tumbled back indoors and just lay there on the floor, sighing in relief. "I think I'll take the stairs next time," he muttered.

But hardly had he said this when—all at once, just outside the door only three meters away, he heard rapidly-approaching footsteps. "How inconvenient," he sighed.

Swiftly glancing around, he spied a large filing cabinet near the door. Dashing over to it, he was just barely tucked away behind it when the door burst open, and three of the guards emerged inside. "Make sure every floor is searched!" one of them ordered. "The men on the ground floor reported that that faceless intruder didn't fall all the way down—he might've slipped onto one of the other floors in the building! Ms. Black wants him found ASAP!"

"Understood!" one of the others affirmed.

"I'll look around in here—you go on ahead and continue searching the other rooms nearby!" the third advised.

The first two promptly turned and hurried off, leaving the third at the doorway. The remaining guard then drew his sidearm and stepped cautiously into the room…stepping quietly, he glanced around, peering suspiciously into the shadowy corners even as he pranced close to the filing cabinet…and then something hard hit the back of his neck and everything went black.

Question promptly grabbed the now-unconscious guard before he could fall to the ground. Glancing around the side of the filing cabinet to ensure nobody else was there, he reached a hand to his belt and pressed the buckle…and a moment later both he and the guard were shrouded in mysterious smoke…

--

The guards moved swiftly along the building's floors, determination set in their grim features. They opened every door they came across and went inside, searching every room for the fugitive. Each time, though, they re-emerged with their faces grimmer, having not found their quarry.

"No sign of him yet?"

"None!"

"Search every room thoroughly! The intruder must not leave this building!"

"Take some more of the men outside! Make sure the intruder doesn't try to sneak out through one of the windows!"

As more of the guards emerged from the various rooms on the different floors, the orders were passed on to them and repeated to others. Almost immediately a volley of the security detail hurried to the nearest elevators, and some went to the closest available stairwells, all of these heading to the ground floor. In what seemed no time at all, they joined the guards already posted and waiting downstairs; about ten of them promptly went outside and spread themselves out around the building, keeping their eyes upward for any sign of the trespasser.

And yet…one of them, soon as he was around one side of the building and out of sight of the others, looked left and right, then put a hand to his belt buckle. Immediately clouds of smoke spewed out and surrounded him—and then, moments later, a familiar faceless figure emerged with one hand at his ear. "Watchtower, Question here," he said in a quick and low voice. "Get me out of here, NOW."

The next thing he knew, the whole world went white around him…

--

_**Justice League Watchtower, 4:55 p.m.**_

"…whew." Flash closed the file-jacket. "Who'd have thought I'd have gotten my own version of Lex Luthor?"

Superman cocked an eyebrow. "Your own version of Lex Luthor?"

"Hey, you know, when you stop to think about it…" Flash shrugged.

"All the same, Flash, while we're up here licking our wounds, Amunet Black is down there pulling puppet strings—AND Zoom's still doing who knows what," Green Lantern said gruffly.

"Well, now we can take care of one half of that problem, can't we?" Dr. Light queried. "Amunet Black, I mean. We've got proof of her actions right here…"

"Not that simple," Mr. Terrific interrupted. "Question had to do a lot of digging just to get this much dirt on Black, even for him; and we don't have any guarantee that she won't be able to cover her tracks. _And_ she was affiliated with Cadmus, even if it was only a little, and Cadmus itself was started as a government-backed organization—who's to say that Black won't pull a lot more strings, including the political, to make sure the truth doesn't get out?" His eyes narrowed. "In other words, Flash's comparison of Black to Luthor might not be too far from the mark."

"So what do we do, then?" Flash wondered aloud.

"I'll tell you what not to do—don't engage Amunet Black just yet."

All of them looked up as, at the doorway, there appeared the faceless Question. Only, he wasn't wearing his trademark blue trench-coat and hat…now he was clad in a black jacket suit with a matching tie. "Where're _you _coming from—a charity ball or something?" Dr. Light asked.

"In a manner of speaking," Question shrugged.

Mr. Terrific eyed him. "Just what were you doing?"

"Well, I figured to myself, since I'm still in Central City, why not pay a visit to the esteemed Amunet Black and shower her with chocolate and flowers?" said Question. "Unfortunately, she didn't like the gifts I brought for her. Women—who can understand them, right?"

"A-HEM!" Dr. Light cleared her throat loudly and with disapproval written over her face.

"Still, I _was_ able to learn a few interesting things, and right from the horse's mouth at that," Question continued. He then looked directly at Flash. "You've finished reading that file?"

"Just about," said Flash. "Why?"

"What did you get from it?" Question pursued.

Flash cocked an eyebrow. "Well, Lady Black supplied weapons for Cadmus, she's got big-shot connections, she gives super-weapons to criminals, she's been working out of my area for years, and she's the one who gave Thinker the Lubrilon he used on his Think Tank. That's it in a nutshell."

"In a nutshell, indeed." Question nodded. "But now I have additional information that that file you're holding won't give you…information that I had to risk jumping out a twenty-five-story-high window to bring to you."

"I'm listening," said Flash.

"That woman is planning to overrun the Central-Keystone area using every super-criminal you've ever fought there," Question said pointedly. "Remember Razer—that armored muscle-head you fought this morning? His armor has been duplicated by Black's little scientist club. When the anarchy in the two cities reaches its peak, her most well-trained people will put on those armors and go out to 'quell the violence.' In the midst of it all, the mayors of both cities will be assassinated, and Black will in turn place herself in power."

"Hmm. Quite ambitious for a simple arms dealer," Mr. Terrific remarked.

"Question, even if we know this now, what can we possibly do about it?" Lantern asked irritably. "Out of all of us here, Superman's the only one in any shape to do anything."

"Wrong." Mr. Terrific suddenly stepped forward. "I'll go and put out one more call to all available Leaguers…if nobody's still available, then I'll just go down there with Question and Superman."

Everyone looked at him when he said that. "You?" Flash asked. "I mean, no offense or anything, I know you can handle yourself, but…"

"Somebody has to go down there and keep this plan of Black's from being carried out," Mr. Terrific said firmly. "And of course, right now you are in no condition to do that yourself."

"But what about that Zoom guy? It's like Green Lantern said before—he's still down there too," Dr. Light reminded the group.

"We'll just have to worry about him when the time is right to worry about him," said Superman. "Right now, though, stopping Amunet Black takes first priority."

Suddenly a technician burst into the room, beckoning frantically to Mr. Terrific. "Mr. Terrific!" she said to him. "You'd better come look at this!"

"Huh?" Mr. Terrific glanced up, as did the rest of the group. "What's going on now?"

"There's something weird happening in the Central-Keystone area—it's being shown on all the major networks!" the technician replied. "Please, hurry!"

Frowning, Mr. Terrific followed the technician, with Question and Superman right behind him. "Hey, guys!" Flash called after them. "Let us know what's up, won't you?"

Superman paused. "Hmm…well, why don't _you _come along, Flash? You can still go out and about in that wheelchair, right?"

"Uh…yeah, sure, okay." Flash turned to Lantern and Dr. Light. "I'll fill you in when I get back, all right?"

"Yeah, you do that," said Lantern. "Just don't overdo it, you hear?"

"Yeah, yeah," Flash answered, and then with that he turned and hurriedly wheeled himself out of the room.

--

_**The streets of Keystone City, 4:58 p.m., at that very moment**_

There were still a few people going about the streets of Keystone City…and many of them were staring and pointing up at the sky. And with good reason—for up there they could see something like an electrical current rising up and forming into a dome above their heads, crackling with electrical voltage every now and again.

As the people whispered fearfully to one another about this bizarre occurrence and some went toward the nearest available building entrances for shelter, hardly any of them seemed to notice a yellow blur running to and fro past them, only really noticing it as an occasional gust of wind…

--

_**Central City Channel 4 News, at the same time**_

"…Linda…Linda! Would you wake up, already?"

The frustrated Marla roughly shook the reporter, who had her head resting between her encircled arms on the desk. "C'mon, Linda, this isn't the time to be taking a nap! We've got a crisis on our hands!"

"Hmm…uhh…wha…?" Thus roused, Linda slowly lifted her head, her eyes blinking open. "Marla…is it time to do the 6:00 report already? Geez, how long was I asleep for…?"

"Right now we've got something bigger than the 6:00 report," said Marla. "Come outside and I'll show you what I mean."

Scowling even as she rubbed her eyes with the back of one hand, Linda got up and followed Marla out the door. "What's going on?" she insisted, unable to hold back a yawn as she spoke. "Last thing I remember, we came back here, gave our report to the station manager, and then I went into my office and sat down at the desk…"

"And while you were off in La-La-Land, things were happening," Marla said pointedly.

"Like WHAT?" Linda asked, getting irritated now.

Presently the two women emerged outside the news station, where several of their co-workers were standing around in the parking lot, looking up at the sky with astonished expressions on their faces…and Linda's eyes widened in shock as well as she beheld the dome-like electrical current in the sky. "Oh, my God…what _is_ this…?"

"You, my friend, are asking the wrong person," Marla replied, looking on at the strange phenomenon as well.

"Well, who _am_ I supposed—" Linda began.

Just at that moment a gust of wind blew past them, cutting off Linda's words. "Sorry, what was that…?" Marla began—but as she turned to her co-worker, she saw that Linda was suddenly nowhere to be found. "Huh?"

--

_**Justice League Watchtower, at the same time**_

Mr. Terrific, Superman, Question, and Flash entered the monitor room, where the technician who'd summoned them was waiting at the control panel. Immediately all four stopped short when they saw what was being displayed on all the monitors. "Good Lord…" Superman whispered.

On the monitors there was a graphic informing all viewers that what they were seeing was the general area where Central and Keystone Cities were located—but where the two cities should have been, there was instead a huge dome of swirling bluish-white energy. "What…the…" Flash's eyes were wide as he took in this view.

Just then a bit of feedback crackling could be heard…then a man's voice spoke. "Good evening, all viewers. Do not attempt to change the channels on your televisions, for this little feed is going to every station nationwide…just so that everyone will have an opportunity to know what is going on."

"That voice…" Question said with recognition in his tone.

"At the moment, you do not know who I am—but allow me to introduce myself." The screen then shifted from the energy dome to a figure in a yellow cowl, with red lightning earpieces. "My name is Zoom," he continued speaking.

Flash scowled. "Zoom."

"What, the voice hadn't tipped you off before?" said Question.

"Shh!" Superman shushed them.

"I know, I know, some of you out there are probably scratching your heads right now wondering who I am…but for the time being, that shouldn't be your concern," said Zoom. "What you _should_ concern yourselves with is what you saw on your screens just now. What is it? That's what some of you are wondering right now, I should imagine…well, simply put, it's an electro-magnetic force-field I spent the last hour or so setting up. As you can see on your screens, it currently has the entire Central-Keystone area completely surrounded. Nothing can get in; nothing can get out. Effectively, this entire area has been physically cut off from the rest of the world."

The video shifted to show several civilians on the city streets, standing a respectful distance away from the edges of the force-field that was trapping them, throwing all sorts of items at it. The thrown items, however, got thoroughly electrified to the point of burning. "Yes, as you can see, I've also set up cameras so you can all see how the people of these two cities are reacting to my little barrier…and so far, ever since it went up they've been trying to break through it, with no success," Zoom spoke again as his face came back on the screen. "Fortunately, this situation doesn't have to last forever. It can all be rectified _if_ certain individuals who are about to be named will comply with my demands. And my first demand should be the easiest to follow up on: The Justice League is to cease all its activity on Earth."

At once the technicians who were watching the video feed whispered fiercely to each other. The four Justice Leaguers looked on grimly at the monitors even as Zoom continued to talk. "For far too long, we the citizens of Earth have had to stand by while these punks run the show. They set themselves up as this planet's 'saviors' but in the process they rob the true civil servants of their merit—doctors, teachers, police officers…they all get sidelined while these so-called 'heroes' steal all the glory. And as if that weren't enough, who do they have among their ranks? Well, right off the bat, I'll mention three: Superman, Hawkgirl and the Flash."

Just then, on the screen there appeared three still-images depicting the three named heroes…and now Zoom's voice took on an ugly undertone. "You see these three?" he asked in a scathing voice. "One almost conquered the world for that alien Darkseid, one betrayed the world for the Thanagarians, and one is nothing but a childish, wise-cracking, show-boating slacker who nonetheless manages to charm an entire territory into giving him a museum for who knows what reason! And yet we've allowed them and their contemporaries, for too long, to walk about freely without answering for their crimes!"

The camera shifted back to Zoom, and his face was a picture of rage—then, abruptly, he seemed to calm down. "But I digress," he went on. "My second demand: The Flash is to give himself up to me. He and I fought earlier today, and I was close to finishing him off, but unfortunately his Justice League buddies interfered and as a result he was able to escape me. But I want him back here, so that we can finish what we started. Or else…"

There was another pause as Zoom took a breath. "If Flash doesn't show himself back within the city's limits within the next hour from now," said he, "then everyone had better start doing a body count. Because for every fifteen minute period that goes by after that appointed time, until he surrenders himself to me, I'll kill one random resident of either Central City or Keystone City. And to prove my point, I've already got my first soon-to-be victim right here…"

Suddenly, he zipped to one side off-camera in a yellow blur—then one second later he reappeared, this time with a young woman by his side, wrapped in chains. "Why don't you smile and say hello to everybody out there, sweetheart?" he grinned at her.

The scowl left Flash's face in that instant as the woman came on the screen, replaced by horror. "…no…!"

"Don't 'sweetheart' me, you brute!" the woman snapped at Zoom.

"Oh, well." Suddenly Zoom zipped off-screen again, carrying the woman with him, then a moment later reappeared by himself, a smirk on his face. "Hey, Flash, assuming you're watching this—which I hope you are—you ought to recognize that girl that was just on, right?" he asked tauntingly. "Well, if by the end of the hour you haven't given yourself up, you'll have forfeited her right to live…and every fifteen minutes thereafter, I'll just run around town and take out one random schmuck till you show yourself.

"And as for your Justice League pals—if they're still in operation by the end of the next twenty-four hours, I've rigged this electro-magnetic field to shrink inwards, burning everything in its path. The entire Central-Keystone area will be reduced to ashes. As well, for every day that goes by until they cease all their activities, I'll just—heh—_flash_ on over to one of the world's major cities at random and reduce that city to nothing but ruins. And you've seen how fast I can go—so don't doubt that I'll do that. Oh, and folks, don't bother trying any stupid rescue attempts down here like you're a bunch of commandos—if you so much as attempt to breach my force-field from outside, I'll activate its shrinking process and flatten this whole area anyway. And trust me, I WILL know if you try to shut down the force-field."

His eyes narrowed. "So, to reiterate…Flash, you have one hour to bring yourself before me. Justice League, _you_ have twenty-four hours to stop all your worldwide activity. Otherwise…the lives of a lot of innocent people will be on your heads. Think about that."

And then, just like that, the video feed was cut off, replaced by white noise and gray fuzz. "I see…so that's him…and that's what he's up to…" Mr. Terrific muttered.

"We conform to his demands or he kills all those people," said Superman dourly.

"And he wants you within the hour…" Question shifted his gaze to Flash. "And with you being in the condition you're currently in, it's not as if you'll be fit enough to fight him."

Flash gripped the armrests of his wheelchair. "But like it or not, I've _gotta_ go down there. If I don't, Zoom will…" He paused and gritted his teeth, not wanting to think of what could happen.

_**CHAPTER 30 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 31 COMING UP!**_


	31. Chapter 31

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

**********

Chapter 31

_**Somewhere in Central City, 5:05 p.m.**_

Standing in front of the video-camera with which he'd made his nationwide televised broadcast only moments earlier, Zoom crossed his arms and smirked triumphantly. "Let's see them overcome THIS now," he gloated.

Off to the side, Linda Park was seated on the floor, chains wrapped securely around her body. "Just you wait," she spat, glaring at the yellow speedster. "They'll soon drag you into a padded cell, right where you belong!"

A second later Zoom zipped right in front of her, stooping down with a frown on his face. "I'm being courteous enough just letting you stay alive for the next hour," he said darkly. "Or do you want to make that, for the next few _seconds?"_

Linda scowled. "You're sick."

Zoom reached down and grabbed her lower jaw tightly. "Am I?" he countered. "No, my dear Ms. Park, it's you and all the rest of those naïve idiots out there who're sick—sick from your pathetic love and admiration for that speedster. But fortunately, I've got the cure for your sickness."

"A gigantic electrical current that's got our twin cities walled in and isolated from the outside world—how's that a cure for anything?" Linda asked. "And just how'd you manage to rig it, anyway?"

"Hmm…well, why not? I'll be gracious and answer the second question." Zoom let go of Linda and straightened up. "Admittedly, it wasn't a simple thing to build, and it did take me quite a bit of time to complete today. And further hampering that was the fact that prior to all this, I'd had no mind for electrical engineering, mechanical engineering, or anything of that technical nature."

"Prior to all this?" Linda repeated, a puzzled look on her face.

"That's right," said Zoom. "What I did was super-speed though the public libraries of Central and Keystone Cities and the libraries of every school in the area, and speed-read every book on electrical and mechanical engineering that they had. Some of those books were pretty thick, and to read every last one of them in succession would take a few years at the most…but for me, with my abilities, it only took about, hmm, say, twenty minutes?"

Linda scowled at him again. "Now you're just bragging."

"Call it what you like," Zoom said indifferently. "Fortunately, I've always had a keen memory for things I've read, and that memory was especially useful here, considering I had to cram years' worth of information into my brain at such a rapid pace. But that's the beauty of the human brain—it can store infinite amounts of information and knowledge, and all this technical stuff that I read in those twenty minutes was just a drop in the bucket. The really hard part, though, was putting to use everything I read. To do _that,_ I required at least a working knowledge of these two cities' electrical and electronic layouts…and considering how fast I can go, that wasn't so difficult to get."

He paced away from Linda, toward the video equipment he'd set up for his broadcast. "First, I stole some iron rods from scrap-yards in Keystone City, strategically burying them around the twin cities. Then, I rerouted several critical power lines to those iron rods. Of course, many power lines were built underground as well as above ground, but it wasn't hard to shift their direction of power where I wanted them to go. All it took was a bit of rerouting of electrical wires…perhaps depriving some places of electricity in the process…"

"But even if you did it that way, how could you have gotten this electrical energy into this dome shape that it's got now?" Linda pursued.

"Simple—using the knowledge of mechanical engineering that I'd gleaned from my reading, I was able to create my very own electro-magnetic generator, and housed it right at the highest point here at our current location," said Zoom. "Then, I re-routed several of the main breaker lines from the power plants of both cities to my generator, calibrated it a bit, and then—all I had to do from there was flip a switch. And…well, you saw the result."

He turned and walked back toward her, stooping down so they could be on eye-level with each other. "And you want to know the beautiful irony of it?" he continued. "The generator that's powering this force-field which has everyone trapped right now—I installed it in the very spot where everybody's paid tribute to the Flash."

The glare slowly disappeared from Linda's face as realization came home to her. "…the Flash Museum…"

"Ah! Seems this reporter isn't just a pretty face after all!" Zoom remarked, mockingly applauding. "The city fathers built the Flash Museum only a short distance from the bridge connecting these two cities—and the statue of Flash that's outside at the front is the tallest thing in this immediate area. Sure, there are plenty of buildings around that are much taller than the statue, but where those were concerned I just twisted and manipulated the general principle of lightning rods, making those buildings the perfect inner conductors for this vast amount of energy. And conveniently enough, the very highest points in both cities all form a nice little circle around the Flash Museum's building site…along the same vertical lines where I buried the rods outside the city that are now conducting the energy from the power plants' power lines."

"So…iron rods on the outside, and tall buildings and other high points on the inside…you routed all those electric lines while keeping the entire geographical map of the Central-Keystone area in mind," Linda summarized.

"That's the elementary school way of looking at it, but yeah." Zoom nodded. "Impressed?"

Linda scowled again. "No."

Zoom shrugged. "Well, it doesn't matter—it's not as though I'm going to let you leave after telling you all of this, anyway. And speaking of which…" Suddenly he zipped out of sight—then a couple of seconds later he whooshed back into view. "I just went to take a look at the town clock. Your boyfriend now has forty-seven minutes to get his butt back here before you die, Ms. Park."

"My—" Linda balked. "He's not my boyfriend, thank you very much!"

"Really?" Zoom gave her a nasty grin. "Then maybe I was imagining things when I saw that news report, the night of the Flash Museum's grand opening—where you were practically declaring your love for him all over national television. Or was that part of your reporting script, as well?"

Linda cringed at the reminder. "Just kill me already. You're going to do it eventually, anyway, so why not do it now and spare me the embarrassing tales?"

"Time moves slowly for a speedster like me. At least this way, watching you turn red from shame will provide me with some form of entertainment till the moment of your appointed death." Zoom chuckled.

Linda groaned. "Oh, brother," she muttered through clenched teeth.

----------

_**Justice League Watchtower, 5:10 p.m.**_

"…so that's how it is." Green Lantern's expression was grim.

"Crazy…" Dr. Light muttered.

Superman's eyes were narrowed. "As it is, we're in between a rock and a hard place. We still can't ignore Amunet Black's plan—but we can't ignore Zoom's threat now, either."

"About that—is it really a good idea for Flash to submit to Zoom's demands?" Mr. Terrific asked. "Especially considering his current condition…"

"And like I said—I haven't got much choice," Flash muttered, resting his elbow on the arm of his wheelchair and propping his chin into his palm. "If I don't go down there, people will get hurt, or worse."

Superman considered a moment. "Maybe you won't have to, Flash," he remarked.

"Huh?" Flash looked at the Man of Steel, confused. "What do you mean?"

"You said that Amunet Black is your own version of Lex Luthor." Superman smirked a little. "I've known Lex Luthor for a long time, long enough to know his kind of personality. And if Ms. Black is the way I think she is, she won't let Zoom's little stunt get in the way of her own scheme—the destruction of Central and Keystone Cities doesn't work with her own goal to rule over them."

"Maybe…but who says she won't turn this to her own advantage somehow?" Mr. Terrific countered.

"That, Mr. Terrific, is a good question," said Question, adjusting his tie in a significant movement.

"Well, in any case, Green Lantern and I obviously can't do anything, the way we are, and Booster Gold and Dr. Fate are still out cold," Dr. Light pointed out. "That leaves you guys…"

"But if any of us other than Flash makes a move to go down there, he'll destroy the two cities anyway," Mr. Terrific noted. "So…"

"Unnh…"

As one, everyone looked in the direction of the groan. Dr. Fate, still on his bed, was trying to sit up. "Fate! Easy now, easy," Superman exclaimed, hurrying over to support the sorcerer. "How do you feel?"

"I've had better days," Dr. Fate admitted, putting a hand to his head. "More important, what of Zoom?"

"Still running free, and at the moment he's holding the Central-Keystone area for ransom," Mr. Terrific spoke up. "He wants Flash to surrender himself, and the Justice League to cease all activity."

"I see…and what is your plan?" Dr. Fate asked.

"No concrete plan yet, but we'll think of a way out of this mess," Superman admitted.

"And what of Flash?" Dr. Fate went on.

"I'm right here, Doc," Flash replied, wheeling himself over. "But I'm in no shape to run around…Zoom banged me up real bad and broke my leg." He pointed to the cast on his leg.

Dr. Fate scowled. "Unfortunate…such poor timing in an emergency such as this."

"Hey, Fate, do you think you could cast one of your spells to heal us so we can at least work on some kind of strategy?" Lantern asked.

Again Dr. Fate's look darkened. "My powers were severely taxed in the battle with Zoom, and as you can see, I'm not completely recovered."

"Huh." Superman looked at Mr. Terrific. "In that case, it'll be just us…but as you said, if we go near the place, the cities will be fried."

Mr. Terrific fingered his chin, his face a study in thoughtful contemplation. Then he looked up. "Maybe we can at least buy a little extra time. I've just thought of a plan, but there's no telling how well it'll work."

"Right now, I think we're all willing to try anything," said Superman. "What're you thinking?"

"Come with me; I'll tell you. You too, Question." Mr. Terrific looked at the others. "The rest of you, stay put and try not to aggravate your wounds. Flash, since you're mobile in that wheelchair, you can take over monitor duty while I'm gone. And don't worry about Zoom—if what I've got in mind works, we should at least be able to shut down his little force-field."

"Just watch yourselves with him, that's all," Flash cautioned.

Nodding, Mr. Terrific turned and left the room, with Superman and Question following behind him. Watching the trio's departure for a moment, Dr. Light chuckled a little as her gaze shifted back to Flash. "Well, Flash, you heard the man. Go right ahead to monitor duty."

"Yeah, yeah," Flash sighed, and he began to wheel his chair toward the door.

"Hold a moment, Flash." Dr. Fate shifted in his bed a little. "There's something I think you should have."

"Huh?" Flash craned his head to look back at the sorcerer.

Dr. Fate sat up a little more and reached his good hand into a pocket. "I have here a tome that was found in one of our libraries at my tower," and he pulled out the book that he'd brought back with him and handed it to Flash. "A bit of old 19th-century history…but you may learn a few things from it, perhaps." He gave the other man a meaningful look as he now leaned back on his mattress, the book still outstretched.

Eyes narrowed a little, Flash reached out and took the tome from Dr. Fate. "Well…I guess I've got enough time on my hands now, anyway. Thanks, Doc." Resting the book on his lap, he turned away and maneuvered his wheelchair toward the door.

Lantern cocked an eyebrow. "He'll be done with that book before the day's finished, you know," he told the sorcerer.

"Indeed," Dr. Fate added, his gaze never leaving the doorway where Flash had just exited the room.

----------

Flash, still with the book in his lap, wheeled himself into the monitor room, in time to see Superman, Question and Mr. Terrific just stepping onto the teleporter pods. "Just out of curiosity, what're you going to do when you get down there?" he called to them.

Mr. Terrific looked up. "Don't worry about that," he answered. "Just keep an eye on things while you're here."

"We'll bring down that force-field and then deal with Zoom; then we can focus on Amunet Black," Superman added. As for how it'll get done—leave it to us."

"Happy viewing," said Question, pointing a finger toward the monitors.

"Co-ordinates are locked in, Mr. Terrific; just say the word," said a maintenance crewmember at the teleporter controls.

"All right. Do it." Mr. Terrific nodded—and then a short moment later, the three Leaguers were gone in flashes of light.

Watching the now-empty teleporter pods a moment, Flash turned his eyes toward the monitor. At once his view was met by the still-swirling electrical force-field Zoom had formed around Central and Keystone Cities. Frowning, he abruptly turned to face another direction—this time toward one of the windows. Wheeling himself over to the window, he peered out at the vast, empty darkness of space beyond. "This sucks," he muttered.

Breathing deeply, he unleashed a huge sigh; if any of the maintenance personnel nearby heard him, they didn't show it. Then, almost absently, he looked down at the book he carried. "All right—Fate went to all that trouble to get you to me, so what's the harm of reading you a little?" he mumbled as he picked it up and opened it.

Sucking on his lower lip a little, he flipped through the pages. Then he paused in his flipping and turned back a few pages. The title of the chapter at once jumped out at him: _The Legend of the Blackfoot and the Windrunner._ Opening the tome a little more, he read.

_The shaman, in imbuing the young Army scout with his magic, said thus: "Run, run, and let the wind carry your feet. Travel faster than the hare, swifter than the eagle, quicker than the puma. Only with great haste will you save both sides from useless spilling of blood. Fear not…doubt not…only run, run—and believe."_

_Then the scout rose and left the shaman—and moving with great haste as was instructed, he found that the movement of time slowed…the wind seemed to blow much more sluggishly than normal. The horizon stretched toward his vision, closing in. In a heartbeat, he saw the forces of the US Army almost upon the unsuspecting Blackfoot Indians—saw the spurt of black smoke from the first musket that fired a shot. The scout sprang into instant action, hastening his step with much greater vigor._

_What happened next could only be described as a miracle. In the time it took the muskets' bullets to travel two inches from the barrels that fired them, he had carried three of the Blackfoot tribe out of the way of the shots. By the time the noise from the muskets being fired should have reached a receptive ear, all of the Blackfoot tribe were safely out of range of the shots. Then, almost as an afterthought, he went back and took all those white men's guns and all those braves' tomahawks, burying them on a hill not far from the site, so that all they would have to fight with were their bare hands. And to prevent even that, he whisked the Blackfoot Indians back to their village, and the soldiers back to their camp. In a heartbeat, both sides were disarmed and unharmed…and it was all the doing of one man, imbued with the gift of quickened feet…the man who would become known among the Blackfoot tribe as Awehota, or "Windrunner."_

One eyebrow lifting a little, Flash flipped through the pages again. "Huh…pretty funny reading for an old Wild West story," he mumbled.

An illustration on one of the pages caught his eye. "Eh?" He flipped back a page and looked at it—a well-styled drawing of a man in a cotton shirt and dungaree pants, tall Wellington boots and a Stetson hat, racing along what appeared to be a prairie while lightning flashed in the dark sky behind him. On the opposing page, his eye caught the accompanying text:

_Even the Blackfoot tribe's legends cannot say exactly what happened, next, but as best as their stories can relate it…Windrunner ran, his muscles straining from the effort, as the lightning in the sky above intensified in its jagged display. Then…the breeze no longer felt cold, no longer cutting into his flesh. The lightning seemed to stand still…and then shift in his direction, over and past him. His legs felt lighter, far lighter than even that day when the Blackfoot shaman first granted the tribe's magic unto him._

_And then, instead of moving across the sky, the lightning seemed to stream down, toward him, but instead of striking him dead, it coursed around his body…enveloping his vision in bright light that exploded in all the colors of the rainbow. That light was almost as though heavenly choirs were opening their voices to welcome him. And all the while, he could only hear the last words of the shaman, that day, now ringing in his ears: "Fear not…doubt not…only run, run—and believe."_

_And then Windrunner blinked—and he was gone. And just as abruptly, the lightning storm that raged over the American West on that dark night was stilled._

Flash slowly shut the tome, a frown on his face. "Almost like…four years ago…" he whispered. "But what good is this story gonna do me, right now…?"

Breathing in deeply, he let out the breath in one loud exhalation. Then he looked at the bandages around his torso, and at his broken leg, still set in its cast. _And who am I kidding, anyway? Even if I went down there now, the way I am…I'd only get killed. If I was still able to at least run, then maybe I'd have a chance against Zoom…but…_

His frown deepened. Then his gaze shifted back to the now-shut tome, sitting on his lap, then to his injuries again. _Two days…before I can start my recovery…even with my fast healing…_

_Fast healing…_

_Fast healing._

He opened the book again, flipping back to the pages he'd been reading a moment before. The words of the shaman in the book came out before his eyes once more. _"Fear not…doubt not…believe."_

_Fear not. Doubt not. Believe._

Again he shut the book. "Aw, what the heck. I'm already banged up…what more could it hurt?" he muttered.

He wheeled his wheelchair out of the monitor room, down the corridor, and soon located a discreet corner. Glancing around to ensure he was alone, he settled himself firmly into the chair…and then his hands began to vibrate. Then his head and neck, then his chest…then his legs…until his whole body was vibrating. And as it did, he could feel a tingling sensation running just under his skin even as the speed of the blood pumping through his veins increased. He kept up the vibration…and now the tingling turned to heat, as though pepper had been doused underneath the skin.

_Fear not._

Gritting his teeth, he gripped the wheelchair's arms tightly with his hands. The vibrating extended to the wheelchair itself; now it was as though he and the chair were being violently shaken up and down. The chair's metal parts began to heat up, but still he did not let up.

_Doubt not._

He could feel the blood circulating rapidly throughout his body…his heart, pumping at an even faster rate than should have been considered normal…his wounded knee throbbing with every pulse of blood that rushed through the vessels connected to that limb. And as he continued to vibrate his whole body, he could feel the aches within himself slowly…ever so slowly…being reduced.

Muscles and tissues connected back to each other. Bone fragments reformed into one solid, bonded shape.

_Believe._

He felt the urge to move. He put his hands on the wheelchair's wheels. The black rubber was steaming; it felt ever-increasingly warm to his touch. Moving his arms as fast as he dared, he maneuvered the wheels to roll forward.

The next moment, the Watchtower's corridors seemed to stretch and expand before his eyes. Passing individuals appeared as blurred shapes. The stars outside the corridor windows seemed longer than stars should be. The wheelchair felt on fire underneath him. On impulse, he raised himself up, standing firmly on both feet.

There was no pain in his injured—no, no longer injured—leg. There was no sudden stab of agony from his ribs. He took a running step forward. Then another. And another. The blurry images appeared to blur even further than ever.

Electricity flashed before his eyes. It coursed all over his face, his arms, and up and down his torso. His step felt lighter than he could ever remember it being whenever he used his speed in times past.

Even the minutest water droplets in the air seemed to stand still. He could almost evade every single one that was directly in his path, if he were to really try.

_Run, run._

----------

Dr. Fate sat up in his bed and looked toward the room's doorway. "Flash?"

"Huh? You say something, Fate?" Lantern queried, as he and Dr. Light turned to look at the other hero.

"Just now…I felt…an incredible energy surge…" Dr. Fate's eyes narrowed slightly. "Felt like…the Flash."

Lantern's eyes widened. "What? What do you—"

A loud _whoosh_ caught their attention, and all three turned their eyes in the same direction, in time to see a brief glimpse of a crimson streak—accompanied by electric sparks—blitz right past in the hallway outside. Two seconds—and then the _whoosh _and the crimson streak and electric sparks went past again. Two seconds—and again. One second—and yet again.

"What is he DOING?" Dr. Light exclaimed.

"Being a nut, that's what!" Lantern made to lean forward—and winced as his own injuries got aggravated. "Wally, QUIT IT!" he yelled out.

----------

Flash blinked.

The blurry field of view solidified briefly to show the monitor room again. And the teleporter controls…seconds later he was in front of them, touching buttons at such a pace that even to him, his electrified hands appeared blurred. Then, one second later, he was standing on a teleporter pod—and a while burst of light engulfed him.

And as far as anyone else was concerned, the Flash had sped through the entire length and breadth of the Watchtower's corridors at speed just short of shattering the corridor windows, leaving the smoking and burning wheelchair in his wake, and had simply gotten onto the teleporter—seemingly without even going near the control pad—and gone to parts unknown.

----------

_**CHAPTER 31 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 32 COMING UP!**_

(NOTE TO BE MADE: Flash's vibrating trick in this chapter, which leads to his wounds healing, is a tribute to a Silver Age comic for Vol. 2 of The Flash—the exact edition number slips me at the moment—where Barry Allen broke his leg, had to put it in a cast, and spent a whole night fighting crime, at super-speed, in his wheelchair, while vibrating himself into invisibility so he couldn't be seen. A short time later, he got his leg checked up and it was found to have completely recovered, due to all the super-speed vibrating he did that caused his healing rate to speed up far faster than usual.)


	32. Chapter 32

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

**xxx**

Chapter 32

_**Central City Police Department, 5:30 p.m.**_

"Hey, officer! When do I get my phone call? I'm entitled to a phone call, aren't I?"

Chyre looked up, annoyed, in the direction of the shout. "Shut up, Scudder," he retorted. "You're not a celebrity prisoner, you know."

"Bad enough the department's spread out so thin today, but to add to that, we have to be babysitting you louses till the guys from Iron Heights come for you," Morillo added, placing his hands in his pockets and scowling. "What's taking _them _so long, anyway?"

The two cops were in the precinct's cell-block, where prisoners to be transported were usually held. The particular prisoner they were addressing was at the far end of the block, a brown-haired man clad in the requisite gray prison outfit. And he did not look happy. "I have my rights, you know! I at least ought to talk to my lawyer!" he argued.

Chyre walked down the block to the front of the prisoner's cell. "Listen here, Mirror Master—or should I say, Sam Scudder, since you're out of your costume and all?" he growled. "Anyhow, you've been through the system enough times to know how it works. We hold you here, you get carted to Iron Heights, and you stay there till time for your trial. Not that you ever stick around in confinement long enough to go to trial, anyway—you and your fellow whackos."

"Hey, Chyre, you sure you're not carrying anything metallic on you—or anything that might cast some kind of reflection? That _is_ the Mirror Master you're talking to, there," Morillo warned the other cop.

"What d'you take me for, Morillo—a rookie?" Chyre snapped. "Besides, we already stripped him of his little gadgets, didn't we?" He turned and smirked at Scudder a little. "Meta-humans are one thing, but without your little mirror-toys, you're nothing, Scudder. _Nothing."_

"Well, Officer…Chyre, was it? It takes a brilliant mind to come up with the kind of 'toys' I've developed in my illustrious career, you know," Scudder chuckled.

"Then how come you and your pals got trounced by that Zoom character?" Morillo asked, amusement in his voice.

"What? Zoom?" Scudder asked sharply. "Look, we all already told you we didn't make him up! He's real!"

"Forget it, Scudder—they're cops, they won't believe _us,"_ said a voice from another cell nearby. The speaker this time was also brown-haired like Scudder, but he seemed to be an older man with resignation all over his features. "They've only ever known of one speedster in this area—who's gonna believe a story about a yellow Flash knockoff?"

"Actually, Snart, it seems the story you guys gave us has a little merit after all," Morillo addressed this prisoner, now speaking seriously. "Just for your information, he gave a little broadcast on TV telling the Flash to give himself up within the hour, or else he'll destroy the city."

At that, a howl of protest erupted from all the prisoners on the block. "Then how come you guys aren't out there looking for him?" one of them yelled.

"Who says he isn't being looked for right now?" Chyre answered. "And anyway, _somebody's_ got to baby-sit you punks."

"Well, what about the Flash? Where's he at?" another prisoner demanded.

"Why—you scared for your life all of a sudden?" Chyre quipped. "You guys really shouldn't act like you care so much—you're all polluting the Central-Keystone area with your crimes and whatnot. But if you really have to know, the Flash is gonna do his job, just like we're doing ours."

He turned and walked back to Morillo. "Say, how long has it been since that Zoom fruitcake made his demands?" he asked in a low voice.

"Mmm…" Morillo checked his watch. "Just about half an hour, I guess."

"And nobody's called it in to say they found any generator for the weird force-field surrounding the city…Morillo, I've got a really bad feeling about this," said Chyre.

"I know what you mean," Morillo nodded assent. "Super-crooks have been trashing town this whole weekend…the precinct's numbers are basically down to us…and now the Flash is missing in action, and only half an hour's left before Zoom carries out his threats…what next?"

"What's next is, I disarm you, gentlemen!"

The two officers looked up as one—and beheld the prisoner Scudder standing there in the passageway, his cell door swinging open freely! "What the—how'd you—" Morillo began, reaching for his sidearm.

Scudder's eyes twinkled—and a thin streak of light shot out from them, knocking Morillo's gun-holster off his belt. Then the criminal turned his gaze onto Chyre's gun, and the same strange light-blast shot it off from his side as well. "Laser-mirror contact lenses," Scudder explained with a grin, pointing toward his eyes. "You might've taken all of my obvious and visible weapons from me, but I'm not called the Mirror Master for nothing!"

Chyre turned and bent down to grab his gun…but another laser blast from Scudder's eyes knocked the gun away. "I wouldn't do that, officer," Scudder warned. "If your hand had gotten just a little closer, my lasers would've burned right through your flesh. So, bear that in mind, and follow my lead, please." He made a beckoning gesture with his hand. "Now, hands over your heads, and toward me…"

Grimacing, Morillo and Chyre straightened up and placed their hands behind their heads. "This is humiliating…" Morillo muttered as they walked toward the criminal.

"Now, then…the keys to the evidence room where you've stashed my weapons, and don't try any trickery now…" Scudder narrowed his eyes for emphasis.

Morillo complied, reaching one hand down to his pants pocket—but suddenly he thrust that same hand forward, grabbing Scudder by the neck and yanking him forward into his suddenly-upraised knee. As Scudder grimaced from the contact of his crotch with Morillo's knee, the cop reached forward again and grabbed and raised the crook's arm, dived underneath and behind, and twisted Scudder's arm behind him. "Assaulting police officers and attempting to escape custody—your rap sheet's looking more and more impressive by the minute, Scudder!" Morillo declared.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow…" Scudder winced as his twisted arm ached.

"Just hold him right there for a second, Morillo," said Chyre, as he bent down to retrieve the two cops' guns. "I'll soon get those trick contacts out of his eyes!"

_BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!_

Morillo and Chyre looked up, just in time to see the other cell doors swinging open and the other prisoners pouring out of confinement. "Holy—" Morillo began to say, but he was quickly cut off as Scudder spun and sent an elbow into the side of his head, knocking him down.

"Morillo!" Chyre exclaimed—but four of the now-free criminals swiftly grabbed him and held him in place. Nonetheless, he glared at Scudder. "You…you'd already shot the other locks off with your laser contacts, didn't you?" he spat.

"While you and your chum here were talking," and Scudder promptly knelt over the stunned Morillo, frisking him and moments later pulling out a set of keys. Then he looked up at the prisoner named Snart. "All right, Lenny-boy, what say we take a little trip down to the evidence room and get our gear back, hmm?"

"Don't forget me, mate!" one prisoner with an Australian voice spoke up—and then Captain Boomerang, clad in a gray prison outfit like the others, stepped forward. "And I, for one, can't wait to get outta here—I've got a score to settle with that Zoom!"

"Great minds _do_ think alike," and Scudder grinned.

**xxx**

_**Somewhere in Central City, 5:37 p.m.**_

Linda Park was still chained up in a corner of her prison, eyes casting here and there as she kept a watch out for Zoom's yellow-clad form to return. _He's been gone a little while…where does he go when he's not here taunting me?_

She'd had time to survey her surroundings, and she looked around her once again. The walls and floor were made of smooth gray stone and mortar, and the space of her immediate area was about as wide as an average living room, she figured. Far above her head, a huge white fluorescent bulb shone brightly. Some distance away was a video-camera mounted on stilts, the same one Zoom had used earlier to record himself during his broadcast, and next to that was a flat-screen monitor, mounted into the wall. Off to the side, she could see a staircase going upward. So, she guessed, she must be somewhere underground, or perhaps in a basement somewhere. The question was, where?

_And more than that…what time is it now?_

As that one crossed her mind, Linda bit her lip. _How long has it been since he announced his demands? I've really lost track of time down here…and…_ Her brow furrowed as she cast her gaze downward.

_Wally…Zoom hurt him so much, but he isn't satisfied with that…if Wally comes here as he is, he'll…_

A rush of wind interrupted her thoughts—and then Zoom appeared before her, arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his mouth. "Don't fall asleep just yet, Ms. Park," he spoke to her. "You still have twenty minutes left before you become my center-stage prop."

"Twenty minutes, huh? But that doesn't make a difference to you if Flash doesn't show up, does it?" Linda asked.

Zoom thrust his face up into hers. "For your sake, missy, he'd better."

"What good will that do? You beat him up enough already, didn't you?" Linda demanded.

"And what, I'm to give him a chance to recover? I don't think so, sorry," Zoom answered. "Of course, for all the broken bones he got from me, if he's really as 'super' as you and your fellow citizens of the Central-Keystone area make him out to be, he'll tough it out. That's what super-heroes do in the face of danger, right?" and the sarcasm dripped from his voice as he spoke.

Suddenly the monitor beeped. A half-second later Zoom whooshed over to it in a yellow blur, eyeing it intently. Then he turned and looked at Linda with a grin. "Lookie here—your boyfriend's made it!" he announced.

Linda felt a heavy wind over her—then she found herself right in front of the monitor, even as Zoom plopped her down onto the floor again. "See? Right outside the force-field…and it took him long enough, too," Zoom chuckled.

Right there, on the screen, Linda could see the Scarlet Speedster, with most of his suit ruined from the earlier fight, rolling himself along in a wheelchair even as he approached the electrical barrier outside the city border. "No…!" she whispered.

Zoom's smirk grew more twisted as he beheld Flash's leg in a cast, and bandages around his torso. "I guess even a speedster needs time to repair broken bones…oh, well," he remarked. "Let's give him the welcome wagon—he at least deserves that much before he dies, glory-hound that he is." And he touched a small button on the bottom of the monitor.

**xxx**

Outside the city limits, a small shimmer appeared in the force-field…then it opened slightly, wide enough to allow Flash to pass through. This the Scarlet Speedster did, wheelchair and all—and no sooner had he done so than the gap shrank shut, making the force-field solid electrical energy again. Then Zoom's voice boomed out across the city, his face showing on a large TV billboard some distance away.

"Glad you could make it, Flash!" Zoom cried. "And it was very smart of you to follow my advice and come without your super-freak friends to back you up."

Flash shook his head. "You can see me, so I'm betting you can hear me, too—so let's cut to the chase. Where are you? And where's your hostage?"

"Well, since you're getting right to the point…come to your shrine. I'll meet you there." Then Zoom's image disappeared from the TV billboard.

**xxx**

Zoom flicked the monitor off. "Well, time to go keep my appointment," he announced.

"And what about me—and your force-field?" Linda cut in. "You got what you wanted—he's come back."

The yellow speedster looked at her a long moment. "Well…you, I can probably release, since the first part of my demands has been complied with. With Flash here, I have no reason to hold you as a hostage any longer. However…" His voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "The Justice League still has a deadline to shut down its operations. Until they do, my force-field stays up. And your news station _will_ need every reporter available to cover the devastation that'll follow if the League doesn't comply—so let's take a stroll, Ms. Park."

**xxx**

_**Central City Channel 4 News, a few seconds later**_

"Not good, not good, not good…" Marla paced up and down the office, tightening her hands into fists and then releasing them, only to tighten them again. "Linda…"

A gust of wind blew past her—then the next thing she knew, she saw a dazed Linda Park sitting at her place at her desk. "Linda? You're alive!" Marla exclaimed, rushing over to embrace her co-worker. "I saw that Zoom guy had you as a hostage, and…!"

"Yeah, I'm alive," said Linda. "Flash is here now, so Zoom let me go."

"Flash really came?" Marla released the shorter girl from her embrace, her own face now a picture of renewed worry. "But—there's no way he can fight in his condition! We both saw the thrashing he got today!"

"In that case, we'll just have to trust Flash…hope he's got a plan…and pray he succeeds before it's too late for our cities…" Linda carefully stood up and walked to the window, where she could get a view of the swirling electrical energy field surrounding the Central-Keystone area.

**xxx**

_**The Flash Museum, 5:41 p.m.**_

The Flash rolled up to the huge statue outside his namesake museum. "All right, I'm here. Where are you and the girl?" he shouted.

For a full minute, there was no answer. Then, from somewhere close by, he could hear Zoom's loud chuckling. "Your precious reporter-girl? Don't worry about her…I put her right back where she belongs. After all, she is a reporter…and the energy field surrounding Central and Keystone Cities is big breaking news, don't you think? But then, there _is_ still the matter of your Justice League giving in to the second half of my demands…and unless they do, you can kiss your hometown goodbye."

"And say the League does shut down. What about all the supervillains, and alien invasions, and all the other stuff they have to deal with all the time? What happens then?" Flash queried.

"Why do you think those things show up in the first place?" Zoom's voice rang out. "They get attracted to you carnival rejects, that's why! But once you're all gone, they'll get lost too. It's the only natural thing to happen! And you Justice League people _will_ disappear, I guarantee it…"

Suddenly, from the top of the Flash's statue, a yellow streak shot down, its source holding up one rapidly-vibrating fist. "Starting with YOU!" Zoom yelled as he dashed toward Flash and threw his fist at his nemesis's head—

—only to feel incredible agony course underneath and through his skin as his fist made contact. "EEEEEYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHH!" Zoom hollered as his vision exploded into numerous flashes of black-and-white, then colorful swirls. He felt his body turn extremely light…then flinched as his shoulders, then his back, made contact with rough gravel. "Unnnnhh…"

Flash smiled. "Got you." Then—his whole body shimmered and flickered, before his form disappeared…to show a metallic orb floating in the air…and then a semi-transparent form appeared around the orb: the form of a man in a black, white and red jacket with a big black "T" on his face.

Painfully, Zoom lifted his head and beheld the new form before him. "You…deceived me…who…?" he snarled.

"The name's Terrific…_Mister_ Terrific," the stranger replied. "And what you're seeing in front of you right now is one of my special T-spheres displaying a holographic view of myself. That's not all, though…my T-spheres can deliver a jolt of electricity strong enough to paralyze a target for as long as I need them to be incapacitated…which, in this case, is a good thing, since you need to be restrained." And then the hologram extended a hand toward Zoom, and a stream of electricity shot out from the palm and engulfed the yellow speedster.

"A…hologram…?" Zoom winced as the electric energy coursed all around him. "Ungh…I see…so…grrr…somehow you can remotely…control this thing…and it can make holograms of anybody…that's how you were able to trick me…"

"Yes. And my T-spheres can move at pretty good speed, too…not as fast as the real Flash, but fast enough to get you to drop your guard," Mr. Terrific answered.

"But…" Again Zoom winced from the electric current's effect. "How come…I had a whole security system set up…around the Central-Keystone area…how come it…didn't detect you…?"

"I've got a little quirk about me—I'm invisible to technology," Mr. Terrific replied. "And before you jump to conclusions, no, I'm not a meta-human. It's all thanks to technology of my own design. Other than that, I'm about as normal as any average Joe."

Zoom gritted his teeth. "Normal…maybe…but you're still Justice League…"

"And you might have been a cop, but not anymore. Now, you're just a terrorist." Mr. Terrific's face was stern. "Holding innocent people for ransom—for someone who wants to save people from the 'costumed freaks,' you're going about it in a rather twisted way, don't you think?"

"Say whatever you want." Zoom's eyes narrowed. "As for me…I already warned you…what would happen…if you tried to interfere with me…"

With obvious strain on his face, he managed to slowly lift one of his arms to the side of his cowl. "Forget about it," Mr. Terrific warned him. "Even if you can move, it's obvious that it's causing you pain to do so. Moving at super-speed makes your nerves more sensitive to things like electric shocks, especially if the current's going at the same frequency as your body's vibrations. Try to escape or resist, and you'll only make your situation a lot worse."

"And who's thinking about…escape or resistance…?" Zoom asked scornfully. "I've got…something else…in mind…retaliation!"

As he spoke, his fingers gripped the lightning earpiece on the side of his cowl—and showing strain on his face for only a moment, he pulled the earpiece back to reveal circuitry installed there. And amidst the circuitry was a small blue button. Mr. Terrific's eyes widened on seeing it. "That's…!"

Snarling loudly, Zoom forced his finger on the blue button. "The Central-Keystone area BURNS!" he exclaimed.

Both of them cast their eyes toward the sky, where the electro-magnetic force-field shimmered wildly…and then slowly vanished into thin air, revealing the reddening sunset sky above. "…what…!" Zoom sputtered. "Not…possible!"

"Oh, yes. Very possible."

Zoom turned his head, as best he could, toward the sound of the new voice. Instantly his face contorted into a picture of rage when he saw who it was. "Superman."

**xxx**

Elsewhere in the city, as the residents saw the force-field vanish from sight, wild cheering broke out among the masses. And from where they were, Linda and Marla could see the jubilation. "Wow…it's really gone now…" Marla remarked, seeing the last shimmer of the force-field vanish.

"Score one for the good guys!" Linda pumped an arm into the air. "C'mon, Marla, let's go get some footage of citizens' reactions to this. This is one story I'm not about to miss!"

"Right behind you!" Marla nodded eagerly.

**xxx**

The Man of Steel was floating out of the entrance to the Flash Museum, his cape billowing behind him. He was holding a large mechanical generator above his head, sparks pouring out of its now-torn-apart joints. "Wondering how I slipped past your security system, maybe?" he asked. "Simple, actually. I just waited until Mr. Terrific's T-sphere put on its holographic image of Flash to get your attention, then I burrowed underground, flew through the city's sewer system till I was directly below the museum here, and then I gave a sweep of the area with my X-ray vision until I could find your generator's location. Thank Mr. Terrific for figuring it out."

"It wasn't all that hard to do, actually, once I was able to get a design layout of the area," Mr. Terrific added. "Using the buildings around the museum's site as conductors for the energy needed to create your force-field was pretty clever…but obvious all the same, given your views about the Flash. What better way to destroy your enemy than via the thing that speaks out most about him—that must've been what you were thinking, right?"

"Unfortunately for you, your plan's now a bust." Superman threw down the now-useless generator. "Your scheme is over. Time for you to give up."

"Give up…? To you so-called heroes?" Zoom was livid. "NEVER!"

Suddenly he raised one hand in Mr. Terrific's direction and snapped his fingers. _BOOM!_ A sonic boom erupted from the noise of his fingers, disrupting the holographic image of Mr. Terrific and sending the T-sphere flying wildly. With the electric current that had been trapping him now disabled, Zoom stood up, though gingerly. "Free…!" he exulted.

"Not quite," Superman spoke up from behind him. "I'm still here, remember?"

"So what? I took you down earlier today—I can do it again!" Zoom snapped, turning to face the hero.

"That, I'm afraid, was a fluke. It won't happen a second time." Superman crossed his arms over his chest. "Don't make me get rough. You'll regret it."

"Bring it on!" Zoom yelled—and then narrowly dodged out of the way as the T-sphere flew down, just barely missing him and hitting the ground instead, hitting with such forceful impact that it triggered an explosion where it had hit. Then the yellow speedster rocketed off up the street.

"I'm going after him!" Superman exclaimed, putting a finger to his comm.-link even as he took flight.

**xxx**

_**Blacksmith Corporation, 5:50 p.m.**_

"Understood, Superman. My T-sphere will stick with you to render assistance. Meanwhile, we'll keep busy on our end." Mr. Terrific then took his finger from his comm.-link and turned to the shadows of the trees where he was hiding, in the park. "Ready to go?"

"Always," came the Question's voice, as he slinked out from behind a nearby tree. "Blacksmith Corporation is just up ahead. The question is, shall we try to sneak in, or shall we take a more…direct approach?"

"Let's be subtle for a bit," said Mr. Terrific, "and see what my other T-spheres can scope out first," and he pointed skyward where, near the top of the Blacksmith Corporation building, three of the round spheres circled about, out of view of the windows.

**xxx**

Inside the building itself…Amunet Black was seated at her desk, looking out the window as the sky showed its natural colors of sunset. "So, somehow that Zoom's plan was foiled," she whispered. "Perfect…now **my** plan can begin its next stage."

In a dark corner, the Thinker showed himself only partially. "Ms. Black…?"

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Yes, Mr. DeVoe. You may begin."

Thinker smiled. "Very well, then. I'll get right on it." And he vanished into the shadows again.

**xxx**

_**Somewhere, 5:53 p.m.**_

_Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock._

The knocking on the door continued. "Coming, coming!" a woman's voice called from inside.

Presently the door was opened. Standing there was a brown-haired woman, her head mostly covered by a towel, while she herself was clothed in a bathrobe. "Honestly, the timing of some people," she muttered…but then whatever else she would have said died on her lips as she beheld who her visitor was. "You…!"

Standing on her front step was a man in a familiar scarlet costume, albeit considerably damaged. On one of his legs was a cast, and coursing around his body were little streaks of lightning…but somehow that didn't detract from the aura the woman could feel coming from him.

"Ashley Zolomon, I presume?" the Flash asked.

**xxx**

_**CHAPTER 32 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 33 COMING UP!**_


	33. Chapter 33

**VELOCITY**

A Justice League Fan-Fiction by neomage

(DISCLAIMER: Justice League, Justice League Unlimited, and all characters therein are owned by DC Comics and the Warner Bros. animation studios.)

**xxx**

Chapter 33

_**Somewhere, 5:55 p.m.**_

The woman frowned in response to Flash's query. "Ashley Zolomon…it's been a while since I last heard anybody call me that," she remarked.

"OK, I guess that means you don't want to be called 'Mrs. Zolomon,'" Flash remarked. "So, uh, can I come in, Ms….ah, what's your name now?"

"Ashley is fine," she told him. "Under the circumstances, there's no need for formality…considering that you're here because of my ex, especially since he's taken to dressing like you."

Flash started. "You know about that…?"

"I've been seeing the whole thing on TV," Ashley told him. "Beating the tar out of you and your fellow Justice Leaguers, and then holding two cities hostage like a crazy activist…plus, I could never forget the sound of his voice, or his hatred of costumed criminals or vigilantes. Nobody I've ever known could ever sound like he does, or hate meta-humans or costumed vigilantes the way he does. But tell me—how'd you manage to find me? Because I'm positive he wouldn't have told you where I live…"

"I got to read a couple of files about him—and they listed your address. It was just for me to look you up." Flash regarded her. "Anyway, can I come in? I don't suppose you'd want your neighbors to see me out here on your doorstep like this…" and he indicated his tattered costume and the cast on his leg.

Sighing a little, Ashley stepped aside so Flash could enter. As he did, he noted the simplicity of the woman's apartment—a couch, a television, a bathroom off to one side, a bedroom off in another direction, and a painting on the wall of the living room. "Nice place," he remarked.

"Go ahead and sit down—it must be tough walking on that cast, even for a super-hero," Ashley remarked. "But I'll say just this: If you honestly think there's anything I can do to help you with Hunter, you're wasting your time. I haven't spoken to him since he and I split up. And besides, since he's aping you now…"

"Yeah, that _was_ pretty annoying," said Flash, as he sat on the couch. "As for you and him not talking…"

"Since you've already read up on his history, I assume you know the reason for _that,_ too." Ashley sat down across from him. "Hunter's arrogance got my father killed, Flash. That's not something you forget so easily, even with the passage of time."

"But hundreds more will die because of him, if something's not done," said Flash. "I was just hoping that, at least, if somebody who knows him well enough could try to talk to him…I don't know, appeal to his human nature or something…"

"And as I said, you're wasting your time here. I'm not the person you want for that kind of job." Ashley looked away. "Hunter's a monster now…because I helped to make him into a monster."

"You?" Flash cocked an eyebrow.

Ashley heaved a heavy sigh. "Do you have any idea how long I've spent switching between begrudging Hunter for his part in my father's death, and feeling guilty for driving him away—driving him deeper and deeper into his anti-meta-human prejudice? And now, knowing he's become a super-speed freak—no offense—I can't help but feel even more that, just maybe, I helped to cause whatever transformed him into…what he's become."

"Well, no offense taken," Flash answered. "But maybe you could look at this as a chance to try and make things right between you two. Who knows—it just could be what the doctor ordered."

But Ashley shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm just not that optimistic. Anyway…even if I go there and see him…he's no longer the man I was married to. That much is obvious, no matter how you look at it."

"…I guess so." Flash stood up. "Well, I guess I'll just have to do what I can, then. Sorry I wasted your time."

"Wait, hold on—what are you going to do, with a broken leg?" Ashley inquired, pointing to Flash's leg-cast. "I think it's incredible enough that you came here in your injured state at all, but to go fight him like this…"

Flash smirked a little. "Miracles happen."

Then he held up one hand and began to vibrate it at super-speed. Bending at the waist, he passed the vibrating hand through the cast, cutting through it and exposing his leg underneath, till at last the cast was in two big pieces on the floor. "I've got super-speed, so naturally I heal fast too," he remarked—then a second later his hands were a blur again as his fingers chipped away at the cast's fragments, sorting them around his unshod foot into the shape of a boot. "Impressed? That's just for when I can replace my suit, though—gotta look my best when I'm going to fight a super-villain, you know."

"You really are going to face him, aren't you…?" Ashley asked.

"Well, _somebody_ has to. Even if I can't get into the city because of that force-field he's got up…" Flash paused.

Ashley promptly picked up a remote control that was lying on the couch, turned toward the TV and switched it on. As the image appeared on the screen, her eyes widened. "Say—this is—!"

There on the screen before their eyes was a full view of the Central-Keystone area—sans the force-field that had been around it before. "Well, well, well—looks like Supes and the others got through, after all," said Flash, and he grinned at Ashley. "Like I said, miracles happen."

Ashley regarded the TV screen for a moment; then she turned back to Flash. "Could you wait a moment? There's something in my room that might help."

As Flash watched her, she stood up and headed for her bedroom. She promptly went for a bureau that stood off to one side away from her bed, and opened a drawer. She then reached inside and took out a blue rectangular velvet box, then turned and headed back out to the living room. "Take this," she said, tossing the box to the speedster.

Catching it in his cupped hands, Flash opened the box—and beheld a golden badge inside. "And this is…?"

"It was my father's badge from back in the FBI days." Ashley crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. "Hunter always did hero-worship Dad…I suppose it was because Dad was the father Hunter never had. So if there's anything left of Hunter inside that psycho, then…well, maybe a miracle _will_ happen."

"Okay." Flash closed the box. "Thanks."

And then he was gone in a blur of red and a _whoosh_ of wind, the front door swinging open in his wake and Ashley regarding his departure with narrowed eyes.

**xxx**

_**Blacksmith Corporation, Central City, 6:00 p.m.**_

The lights in the room flickered on with a whirring noise accompanying their activation. From the doorway, the Thinker stepped into the light, followed a moment later by Amunet Black's butler. "Everything is ready for you to use, as Ms. Black instructed," the butler informed the super-villain.

Thinker narrowed his eyes at what lay before him: several feet away, in the very center of the room, there sat a throne-like chair with an indentation where the seated person's head would rest. Above that indentation were two large wires that gradually branched off into smaller wires, and those wires connected to a gigantic technological mainframe installed into the ceiling. "And all this is…?" he asked.

"The equipment you will need to fulfill your part of Ms. Black's master design, as she would have explained to you," the butler answered calmly. "All you need to do is sit right there in that chair, and plug in the amplification cables into your Thinking Cap. Then, your mental powers will be greatly amplified…enough so to fulfill your part of the agreement between you and Ms. Black."

"Hmm." Thinker smirked a little. "All right, then. In that case, let this king take his throne."

So saying, he walked toward the chair and sat down in it, settling himself into place so that the back of his Thinking Cap was comfortably cushioned into the chair's indentation. The butler pulled down the two wires and held them above Thinker's head. "Supply me a place in our Thinking Cap to plug these in, please," he requested.

In one fluid movement, Thinker placed his fingertips at his temples, where on either side of the Thinking Cap two circular purple designs were. He touched them briefly, and a moment later the purple circles opened outward, revealing much circuitry inside the helmet-mask. The butler promptly plugged in the amplification cables, then stepped back. "Now, then, Mr. DeVoe, you run the show from here," he announced.

"Indeed I do." Thinker was now grinning a sinister grin, even as his brow tightened a little with concentration…

**xxx**

_**Iron Heights Penitentiary, Keystone City, 6:05 p.m.**_

The mental image of himself that the Thinker had left inside his cell began to glow, albeit very faintly. Standing up, it walked to the door—THROUGH the door—then down the corridor a little ways. Just at that moment a patrolling guard happened to come around a corner and saw the image. "Hey! Hold it right there!" he demanded, pulling out his gun and pointing it at the figure before him.

In response, the image turned—and the Thinking Cap seemed to materialize right there on its head, glowing more brightly than the rest of its body. The guard's eyes widened, then seemed to go blank…and he replaced his gun in its holster. "I understand, Master…my apologies," he spoke in a hollow monotone.

Smirking for a brief instant, the image then narrowed its eyes, and the Thinking Cap glowed more brightly...and beams of purple light shot out from the crown of its head and through the walls and ceiling. The beams coursed through to every single being in the prison, striking each one dead center in the forehead. Janitors, monitor room guards, prisoners, even the patrolling guard dogs on the outside—none was exempted, none was spared.

Then an announcement could be heard over the prison's P.A. system. "Unlock all prison cells. Free all prisoners, including the meta-humans and super-criminals. Unlock the weapon storage vault and let the prisoners have access to whatever weapons they want. Do not resist or restrain the prisoners. They are following the will of our Master."

Silence followed the bizarre declaration. Then a loud buzzing noise echoed throughout every level of the prison, as electronic locks on previously secured prison doors opened. Those doors then opened wide…

A thunderous whoop broke out from the cells as all prisoners stormed out into the corridors. Those super-criminals who had been left in their costumes for easy identification exulted at their newly-gained freedom. The more ordinary criminals were no less jubilant or determined, seizing guns and batons from the unresisting guards who silently stood by while they were stripped of everything that they had formerly used to keep their charges in check.

From one particularly secure—no more so now—section of the prison, a man in blue armor covered in blades stomped out from where he'd been held in stasis. "Time to rip this place apart!" Razer screamed.

An equally-monstrous rust-colored iron giant tramped out of his now-open cell, slamming a fist into his open palm with a resounding _clank_ noise. "Oh, goody…I get to break some bones once again," Girder grinned sadistically.

In another section of the prison, metal bent and tore away from its secured foundations as a purple-caped woman floated along in mid-air. "Chaos…chaos…chaos!" Magenta chanted, over and over.

Other prisoners were storming the weapon storage vault, grabbing up everything from security-issued firearms to more outlandish and unconventional weapons that, until that moment, had been carefully and steadily locked up. One of the prisoners, he in a blue and white outfit, picked out a sparkling blue gem that had been secured inside an electronically-locked safe in the vault. "Sweet, sweet power," Cobalt Blue hissed ominously as he fasted the gem to its old place on his vest—and seemingly in response, the gem glowed brightly, and blue flames spurted from his back to form a cape-like shape.

Another fancily-dressed criminal, this one in a yellow-and-green striped body suit with a yellow design on his chest, gleefully grabbed up numerous tops from another safe. "Time to climb back to the top!" the Top declared.

Yet another prisoner was calmly walking out of the vault, even amidst the madly-rampaging convicts. "Come to me, my pets," the Pied Piper intoned, before blowing a few notes on his flute…and in response, a flurry of vermin emerged from various nooks and crannies in the floor and walls and congregated around him.

Meanwhile, another figure clothed in a body suit with vertical lines reminiscent of the rainbow stepped carefully out of his opened cell. "Must get…replacement goggles…" Rainbow Raider muttered, narrowing his eyes with a grimace.

In another formerly-sealed room, other convicts were busily hacking away at a large block of ice, large pieces of the sub-zero block already on the floor. Presently, more and more of the ice broke away…and from the block's innards, a man in a gray asbestos suit stumbled out. "Brrrr…about time!" Heatwave exclaimed, brushing the remaining ice shards off himself. "Guess I ought to consider myself lucky Captain Cold's ice blasts only do the whole suspended animation bit instead of actually killing…"

Suddenly, an apparition of the Thinker emerged out of thin air. "Huh? The Thinker? You're the one breaking me out of here?" Heatwave asked.

"Everyone, my fellow criminal—everyone, for a special purpose," the apparition replied—and then suddenly a bright purple beam shot out from the front of his Thinking Cap and hit Heatwave right in the forehead. "Just to be safe, you understand…there's no guarantee that my first mental takeover would have affected you, what with you being trapped in that block of ice and all."

Heatwave's initial surprised reaction slowly changed to a determined look, even as the beam going into his head subsided. "Yes…I understand," he replied, gripping the gun in his holster with purpose.

Thinker nodded. Then he lifted his head as the Thinking Cap glowed—and his voice could be heard echoing in the minds of all the convicts, though he himself didn't open his mouth at all. "You all know what you must do. For the glory of our benefactor…do it well."

And all the now-free prisoners' eyes narrowed, and hands gripped weapons with sinister intent even as they all, ordinary convicts and super-criminals alike, began to march out toward the prison courtyard, toward the slowly-opening front gates…

**xxx**

_**Blacksmith Corporation, 6:18 p.m.**_

"Hmm…" Mr. Terrific, still hidden with the Question within the trees near Amunet Black's company building, frowned.

"What?" Question looked at his fellow Leaguer.

"My T-spheres are picking up an energy wave…coming from the building," Mr. Terrific explained.

"Which likely means that our friend Ms. Black has started the penultimate phase of her plan," Question said grimly. "So, what do we do now? We've been out here for almost half an hour now, waiting for an opportunity to make a move…but the longer we wait, the more dangerous things will get."

"Agreed. We're going inside, then—but we'll have to be extra stealthy about it," said Mr. Terrific. "My T-spheres haven't detected any major change in security detail different from what you told me about this place, but we can't afford to drop our guard. Black definitely won't be dropping hers—and she's got the Thinker in there with her."

"Then let's not delay any longer." Question tipped his hat.

**xxx**

Elsewhere in the city, at that moment, Superman was flying along rapidly and fairly low to the ground, the accompanying T-sphere keeping pace with him. "Where'd you go, Mr. Zolomon…?" the Man of Steel wondered, his eyes shifting from left to right as he searched.

Suddenly he halted in mid-air, turning his eyes to one direction. "Hmm?"

Just at that moment his comm.-link buzzed, and he put his finger to his ear to answer it. "Superman here."

"It's me," Mr. Terrific's voice came through. "Question and I are stopping our surveillance of Amunet Black's place, and we're moving in. We've just detected several energy waves radiating from here, so we're going to go straight to the source."

"Yeah, I just detected a strong energy pulse, myself," Superman asked. "Then Black's making her move…"

"That's what we figure," Mr. Terrific answered. "I'll let my T-sphere that's with you continue the search for Zoom, but you head over to Iron Heights Penitentiary—the prison warden's gonna need all the help he can get containing the inmates."

Suddenly a second beeping in the comm.-link caught Superman's attention. "Eh? Somebody's trying to contact me on this frequency…"

"Yeah, mine, too. Just a sec." There was a slight pause, then Mr. Terrific spoke again. "Mr. Terrific here."

"It's me, Green Lantern," the familiar voice came over both frequencies. "Have you seen Flash anywhere down there?"

"Flash?" Superman spoke up, surprised. "Didn't we leave him up there on the Watchtower with the rest of you?"

"Well, he was here earlier, but…one minute, he was doing a super-speed vaunt around the Watchtower, and then next thing anyone knew, he'd gone on the teleporter and went off to who knows where," said Lantern. "We've been trying to find him, but so far, no luck. He hasn't even been answering his comm.-link."

Superman winced. "We haven't seen any sign of him down here—but even so, what could he be thinking? What can he possibly do, in his current condition?"

"My sentiments exactly, Superman," Mr. Terrific spoke up. "Still, we can probably give Flash the benefit of the doubt—he's not dumb enough to take on an enemy while injured. Lantern, what about the rest of you—what're your stats at the moment?"

"Well, I can give you good news about that," answered Lantern. "Dr. Fate and I've recovered enough to move to the monitor deck on our own, and he's recovered some of his magical powers and thinks he can cast a healing spell on all of us up here."

"Dr. Fate here," the sorcerer's voice came over the frequency. "It is as Green Lantern says—I do have enough magical energy now to heal our most grievous injuries, but I still haven't recovered a hundred percent of my full power. Even with the mystic energy I can tap into, my body still needs to rest a lot more than what I've gotten up to now."

"Well, that rest might have to wait—Amunet Black's already launched the next phase of her plan," said Mr. Terrific. "Worst-case scenario, they're probably starting a break-out at Iron Heights Penitentiary right now. Question and I are going to try and stop Black's plan at its source, but it's not any ordinary prisoners that are being held there—Superman will probably need some backup. Unless you feel you can handle it on your own, Superman…?"

"No, you're right—after everything that's happened in this area so recently, we can't take any chances," said Superman. "Dr. Fate, once you've healed the others, get down here ASAP. As for yourself, if you think you'll need to conserve your magic energy…"

"There'll be enough time for me to fully recuperate my magical power after this crisis is dealt with, Superman," Dr. Fate told him. "Just as long as my physical self can handle the stress of battle after healing myself, whatever magical energy I'll have left should suffice."

"Fair enough," said Superman. "I'll see you down here, then. I'm on my way to Iron Heights now."

He removed his finger from his comm.-link—and only then did he hear a rush of wind coming at him from one direction. Turning that way, he was totally unprepared for the hurricane-force air-stream hitting him squarely in the face, causing him to fall out of the air and toward the pavement below.

But he never hit—for he was just less than six feet away from concrete when a yellow-blurred slipstream engulfed him. The next thing he knew, his cape was billowing all around him as he found himself forcibly suctioned along by the tail wind of Zoom's super-speed stampede. "Shouldn't have stopped to chat, alien freak—now you're going to pay dearly for it!" Zoom gloated. "One thing I learned in the FBI—when you have a job to do, stick to it!"

The yellow speedster abruptly rounded a corner at a sharp 90-degree angle—and Superman ended up slamming full-tilt into the wall of a stone-built complex that Zoom had deliberately played chicken with. In response to being so suddenly and forcibly broken smashed into, the whole wall crashed down upon Superman, with the building tilting ever so slightly as a result of its design being so violated. Zoom, meanwhile, grinned nastily at his handiwork. "Maybe that concussion shock won't kill you, Superman, but it'll wear you down enough for me to pick you apart piece by piece!" he shouted. "And believe me, I _will_ enjoy killing you—it'll be an appetizer before I set into the rest of your Justice League!"

For answer, the rubble got knocked outward…then a moment later the Man of Steel emerged from what was left of the wall, his costume looking very dusty from the collision and his face looking peeved. "I'm only going to tell you once," he said, very calmly. "Quit now while you're ahead, before you hurt yourself."

"Hurt myself?" Zoom asked scornfully. "Believe me, the only one who's getting hurt here is you! I was able to smash you during our previous skirmish—I can do it again, and I will!"

"Don't fool yourself. That was just a fluke. It won't happen a second time." Superman crossed his arms over his chest. "You had your warning. Now I'm no longer playing nice."

"And I never WAS playing nice from the get-go!" Zoom vanished in a yellow blur, crisscrossing around Superman in jagged and random patterns.

Superman scowled. "I'm not impressed."

Then—in a blur of blue and red, he vanished too, running around and through Zoom's blurry after-images at super-speed. The rush of wind the two kicked up caused a small hurricane of dust from the street to swirl all around them. Though a casual observer would have been hard-pressed to give details of what exactly the two were doing at that moment, all that one might say with truthfulness was that Zoom was, perhaps, dodging Superman's attempts to nab him, or perhaps Superman was trying to intimidate the Reverse-Flash with his own display of velocity.

Then Zoom's running patterns became wider…wider…wider…ever so subtly. And as he ran…his cowl's red lightning tips became charged with crimson electricity, as did the lightning patterns on his costume. Superman, his vision only just remaining in focus after being in super-speed mode for so long, noticed sparks of red lightning coming from his quarry, seeming to circle all around in random directions.

"I'm not impressed."

Hearing the words coming from his most immediate right side, Superman just slightly turned his head—in time to see a yellow-gloved fist, covered in red lightning, heading straight for his face. On instinct, he put up a hand to intercept the fist…but to his astonishment, the fist blurred THROUGH his catching palm before connecting solidly with his jaw. Inexplicably, though he'd always been able to take even the hardest hits in his career, this one felt as though it would actually take his head off…and as it was, it sent him sailing senselessly into the sky and out of view.

At last Zoom stopped right where he was, and looked up to see Superman's involuntary flight. "Up, up, and away, freak," he chuckled.

He felt a tingling sensation in the arm he'd used to punch Superman. He held it up—and cocked an eyebrow as he observed little tinges of red lightning coursing over his fist. "Hmm…I don't think I noticed _you_ before," he said aloud. "Oh, well, at least that showed him that the first time around was no stroke of luck."

All at once, from out of nowhere, a blast of ice hit his upraised fist, fastening it closely to the wall! "Huh?" Zoom exclaimed—seconds before similar blasts froze his other hand and the lower half of his body to the wall as well. "What is this? Who's the wise guy?"

"I take the credit, you cheap Flash knockoff," a gravelly voice replied.

Looking up in the direction of the voice, Zoom beheld a nearby shop window exactly opposite him, casting a clear reflection of everything facing it—but instead of his own reflection, as would logically be expected, he saw three men's images in the glass. Then those three men seemed to step _out_ of the glass and into full view…one in a blue trench-coat with boomerang designs on it, one in an orange suit with a green cowl, and the third in a blue parka. "We just figured it was time for some serious payback," the third man continued speaking.

Zoom narrowed his eyes. "Captain Cold, Captain Boomerang, and Mirror Master…through the use of your famed mirror-dimension, I assume?" he directed the question at the mirror-themed crook.

"Quite so…although that won't matter in another moment." Mirror Master pulled out one of his laser pistols, even as Cold held up his still-active cold-gun and Boomerang readied a razor-edged version of his trademark weapon. "We don't take kindly to humiliation…so we're going to repay the hurt with banker's interest."

But Zoom scoffed. "As if."

Cold and Mirror Master blasted ice spikes and lasers from their respective guns, while Boomerang flung his weapon—but just as the projectiles were about to hit their target…he turned blurry and then seemed to vanish into the wall! The result: the boomerang and ice spikes got embedded into the wall, while the lasers left searing holes in the mortar. "Oy, mates! Where'd he get to?" Boomerang exclaimed in bewilderment—

—but then he flinched and doubled over as something heavy connected with his stomach. As Cold and Mirror Master turned in response to hearing Boomerang's grunt of pain, they both felt something grab the backs of their heads and slam their skulls into one another. Grimacing, the two collapsed to join their already-felled partner-in-crime on the ground.

Standing over them, Zoom's vibrating form became fully solid again. "So, you three stooges relish lessons in pain, do you?" he asked, cracking his knuckles. "Well, fortunately for you, class just got in session…and Professor Zoom is your teacher today."

**xxx**

_**Keystone City, 6:27 p.m.**_

Milling about the streets of Central City's heavily-industrialized sister town in small groups, the residents were chattering amongst themselves, discussing the events of the day so far. Some were still celebrating the fact that the bizarre force-field that had overshadowed them only a short while earlier was now down. And as they excitedly chattered about all the phenomena they'd experienced up to that point, a few chanced to look up to illustrate how they'd felt upon initially seeing the force-field when it had gone up, and…

CRASH! Something slammed into the city's main street with extreme violence, causing parts of the street to break under the impact and startling everyone present in the process.

For a full moment, nobody dared to move. Then, some of the bolder residents cautiously approached the crater the impact had left…only to pause when Superman slowly rose to his feet and clambered out of the crater. "Ow…that's not normal…" he muttered as he put a hand to his jaw where Zoom had belted him.

"Hey, uh…you okay there, Superman?" a bystander asked.

"Well, when I get my bearings back, I should be…" Suddenly Superman looked hard up the street…all the way to the city border some distance ahead. "Say…"

And far beyond the city limits, his enhanced vision saw several prison-issued buses and trucks rapidly approaching…with gloating and chortling former convicts, several of whom were dressed in outlandish costumes…and a few of this latter type were even boldly riding on top of the vehicles, concentrated determination etched into their faces…

**xxx**

_**CHAPTER 33 COMPLETE! CHAPTER 34 COMING UP!**_

(NOTE TO BE MADE: To the matter of Zoom being able to hit Superman like he's done, not once, but twice now in this story, and send him flying, despite Superman's invulnerability and without serious damage to Zoom himself…this is based largely on information from the DC Comics Database, where Flash's super-speed enables him to use what's known as an "Infinite Mass Punch;" basically, the faster he goes, the more force goes behind his attacks, which in the comics enabled him to punch a White Martian who had as much durability as Superman into the atmosphere. Although here, one may also use inadvertent tapping into the Speed Force as an excuse…and it WILL become a very important plot point here, so be patient with me.)


End file.
